


Everything is Permitted

by charliechick117



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Templars, M/M, The Assassin's Creed AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliechick117/pseuds/charliechick117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori runs the Assassins Guild in Erebor, constantly in battle with the Templars.  Currently, his project is trying to keep Thorin, heir to the throne, from falling in line with the Templar belief.</p><p>That would be much easier if Dwalin wasn't constantly hounding him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assassin

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be a very slowly written story - I'm going to try and write it in a different kind of style, one with more continuity and better internal thoughts.
> 
> It's kind of my pet project to try and be better.
> 
> Hopefully y'all still enjoy it :)

He crouched on the beam, looking out over the city.  He had grown quite skilled at creating mental maps from a bird's eye view.  It was vital in his line of work.

The city of Erebor, as it was called, was massive.  Countless layers falling deeper and deeper into the mountain, made it difficult for one such as himself to create the maps on paper.  Much better to keep them in his mind.

Something the recruits had yet to understand.

This was a good perch, he noted mildly.  It provided a clear, unobstructed view of the palace.  Technically, dwarves didn't have palaces, but what else was he supposed to call the place of residence for the royal family?

He narrowed his eyes as the massive doors slid open.  Out came the royal family.  Thror, his son Thrain, his son Thorin.  Thorin was the one he was interested in.  Thorin hadn't been tainted yet.  For reasons he did not understand, they had chosen to wait to introduce Thorin to their order.

The wrong order.

"Mentor?" a quiet voice came from behind him.

He turned, eyes narrowed under his hood.  This was one of his sister's ladies.  He was honestly surprised she made it up the edge of the mountain.  Her dress, which excelled at attracting attention, did little to help her climb to such a viewpoint.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"Your sister," the lady said.  "She has vital information for you.  She requests you immediately, if you please."

He turned back to the royal family.  They weren't doing anything quite interesting, just standing and talking.  As important as trailing Thorin was, he knew better than to ignore his sister.  He whistled, sharp and short.

One of his students jumped onto the beam beside him.  Her belt was filled with throwing knives and she carried a bow on her back.  The thin red sash identified her as a warrior rank.  She put a hand on her heart and bowed her head.  He gestured to Thorin, two quick jabs, and she nodded, disappearing just as quick as she appeared.

"So it is true," the lady whispered.  "You are trailing the prince."

"Thorin has yet to be tainted by the poison of the Templars.  I am not about to give them that chance.  Now," he turned and smirked at her, "have you ever done the Leap?"

He saw her take a tentative step back, hand flying to her chest.  "You mean jump?"

"I mean  _fly_."

He held out his hand, thick and rough from a lifetime of murder and subterfuge.  She hesitated.  He waited.  Slowly, she reached out and slid her hand against his.  In her line of work, soft hands were sign of a good companion, and her hands were like finely spun silk.

Slowly, he pulled her next to him, until she was practically standing on top of him.

"Technically, this isn't done with two people," he said.  "I'm not sure if it will even work."

"I believe it will," she said softly.

"Such faith," he sighed.  "Just like my sister."

Then he pushed her.

* * *

Far in the middle district of Erebor was a brothel.  Not just any brothel, this was  _The Sapphire Room_.  Well known throughout all of Erebor for its excellent service.  The leader of this particular brothel, was the young Ori.  She, being only 79, was originally looked down on, but with bothers in a rather high standing, no one dared oppose her.

"Mistress," one of the girls came up to her.  "The boys are back.  They are asking for you."

"They always ask for me," Ori hardly glanced up from her book.  "However, I have business to attend to tonight.  The family is visiting."

The courtesan's eyes widened and she nodded.  "I'll close early then, shall I?"

"If you can manage," Ori said lightly, making a note of their most recent payment.

She nodded and closed the door lightly.  Ori glanced at the record book, double checked her calculations, and closed it.  From her desk she pulled out a small, leather-bound book.  She opened it to a fresh page and began writing.

_Lord Torin.  Templar.  Funds a traitor among the thieves.  Looking to flush out the guild.  Recommend immediate attention._

_Lyris.  Courtesan.  Found her pining after Templar muscle.  Curious.  Keep close eye on her._

"Losing control of your girls?" a familiar voice lured over Ori's shoulder.  "I'm surprised, sister."

"Nori," she set down her quill and gave a small smile.  "Never could use a door, could you?"

"Never," Nori bent down and kissed her cheek.  "Surely these aren't the reason you called me here?"

Ori stood up and closed the book.  She turned to her brother.  His hood covered all facial features, save his mouth which was set in a deep scowl.  Reaching up, she pushed the hood back.  There he was, her brother, with his all-seeing eyes piercing into her.

"How long have you been looking for someone to lead the thieves guild?" Ori asked.  "Since Aram's death?"

"About that," Nori shrugged.  Ori understood.  Aram was a touchy subject for all of them.

"Well, I may have found you a replacement," Ori's eyes twinkled.

Smooth as satin, she opened the doors to her office, and in stepped two dwarves.  One was Dori, their older brother and leader of the mercenaries.  The other was the replacement.

"Hi there," the dwarf stepped forward, smiling brightly and holding his hand out to Nori.  "Name's Bofur.  Dori here was telling me that you needed some help?"

"Yeah," Nori shook Bofur's hand.  "You any good at stealing?"

"One of the best," Bofur winked.

Ori couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips.  No one was as good a thief as Nori, but he couldn't be just a thief anymore.

"We'll see about that," Nori gestured for him to follow.

"Wait," Bofur stopped, glancing at Ori for help (to which she shrugged).  "I didn't catch your name?  Who are you exactly?"

Nori turned, his smile like a wolf.  He reached up and flicked his hood on.

"My name is Nori and I'm the Master Assassin."

 

 


	2. Thieves Guild

Nori wasn’t sure what he felt about Bofur.  He was far too cheerful for their line of work, something that Nori distrusted instantly.  Despite all his misgivings, Bofur was a decent thief.  He performed every assignment Nori gave him with flawless execution.

“How am I doing?” Bofur hopped onto Nori’s beam with a bright smile.

“Fairly decent,” Nori shrugged.

“I’ve impressed you, haven’t I?” Bofur gave Nori a friendly nudge.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Because Dori said if you didn’t approve then you would have abandoned me.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“So… now what?”

“Let me take you to the thieves’ guild.”

Nori turned and ran up the wall, fingers and toes finding the smallest crevices to pull him forward.  He didn’t look back to see if Bofur was following.  If he was truly going to be part of the Assassins, then he would be able to follow Nori wherever he went.

The thieves’ guild was in the Poor district.  Years ago, it had been disguised as a soup kitchen of sorts, a building to give food and supplies to those less fortunate.  It was a rather large building, dug straight into the stone of the mountain, digging deep and hiding the true nature of the building.

It was a far run from the Rich district where they had been stealing money purses, but Nori loved running across the rooftops of Erebor.  Even in this mountain, homes were built outside of the stone.  Stalls were set up in the streets, beams were scattered all across the stones to keep the mountain from falling in.

There was freedom in running over everyone else, in being an eagle and flying over everyone else, not having to push through throngs of others.  Nori relished in that freedom.  It was what brought him to the Assassins in the first place.

With a swing on a nearby lamppost, Nori leapt down in front of the guild, Bofur jumping neatly next to him.

“Glad to see you made it,” Nori grinned.  He pushed the doors open and gestured for Bofur to follow.  “Welcome.”

Bofur’s eyes widened as he walked into the building.  It wasn’t much, just a few wooden tables and a decent sized kitchen.  Nori took Bofur and lead him through the back door.  If he thought this was great, the thief was going to faint at the sight of the actual guild.

“Where is everyone?” Bofur asked in a whisper as Nori led him down a flight of stairs.

“You’ll see.”

The stairs opened to a huge cavern.  Dwarves were all around, dressed in light clothes with simple weapons.  They all stopped at the sight of Nori, bowing their heads slightly.  The walls were lined with weapons and chests of gold scattered the floor.

Nori missed being just a thief, running and taunting the guards, taking whatever he wanted.  So long ago, he was a thief in the Assassin order, but now he was the Master Assassin, the Mentor,

“Hello,” Nori said.  “I’ve got you a new leader.  Say hello to Bofur.”

Murmurs scattered throughout the thieves guild as they eyed up their new leader.  Nori knew what they were seeing, a too cheerful dwarf with a silly hat.  Hardly what the thieves were used to.  Aram pushed the thieves hard, sometimes too hard if Nori was honest.  But the thieves did their work and they did it good.

Perhaps it was time for a new leader, a different leader.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nori said, throwing his hood off.  “What right does this dwarf have to lead us?  With his silly hat and humorous disposition.”  The thieves chuckled at that.  “But I ask you, thieves of Erebor, to trust me once more.  Bofur has shown every bit of a thief’s spirit.  He will lead you and guide you and, most of all, he will make you laugh.”

“Aw, you do care!” Bofur cooed.

The thieves laughed and Nori’s chest warmed.  It had been a long time since there was laughter in the thieves’ guild, and that was something thieves thrived on - good humor.

“My fellow thieves and pickpockets,” Bofur flung his arms out, “what an honor it is to be in your presence.  I’m certain, together, not only are we going to steal every gold coin from those damn Templars, but we are going to embarrass them while doing it!”

The thieves like the sound of that, if the thunderous cheering was anything to go by.  Nori liked the sound of it as well.  Thieves were meant to humiliate and embarrass.  Perhaps, once again, Ori was right.  He tapped Bofur on the shoulder, gave an encouraging smile, and left the guild.  It was in good hands.

Dori was waiting for him outside.

“No,” Nori shook his head.  “Every time you seek me out, something bad happens.  What’s happening now?”

“Your favorite guard is in town,” Dori said.

Nori’s face broke into a sly, feral grin.  Bless Dori for knowing that Nori did have a favorite guard, one who was Templar through and through.  He was the strongest and biggest of the Templar guards, the most ruthless and the most cunning.

His name was Dwalin and Nori couldn’t resist him.

 


	3. Prince and Chase

Thorin loved to walk around the market place.  He knew that he was to be king someday, and he knew that being king meant being one with the people.  Truly, Thorin loved being among the common folk.  They were simple and precious and full of a life Thorin never led.

“This is dangerous, Thorin,” Dwalin hissed in his ear.  “There are a great many dwarves who would have you killed.”

“Please, Dwalin,” Thorin scoffed.  “No need to be so melodramatic.”

“This is called caution,” Dwalin insisted.

Thorin rolled his eyes.  Dwalin was a fantastic guard and he would protect Thorin to his dying breath, but the dwarf had some strange theories in his head.  Dwalin seemed obsessed with Thorin’s safety and frequently worried about Thorin’s constant visits to the Middle district.

How was Thorin supposed to tell Dwalin that he came to the Middle district to ensure that he had their loyalty?  No dwarf would support a king who cared not for the common folk.  He had seen Thrain and Thror struggle in keeping them in line.  That was a mistake he was not eager to repeat.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Thorin said to Dwalin.  “You won’t have to rule these people like I will.”

“You are their ruler,” Dwalin said.  “Not their friend.”

“And why do I have to choose one or the other?” Thorin countered.

It was a familiar argument, one that they’ve had since they reached adulthood.  Something happened then, Thorin can’t say what, but something about Dwalin changed when he joined the guard.  Still, Dwalin was Thorin’s closest and dearest friend, despite their arguments.

The market was bustling today.  Dwarves squeezed between crowds that formed around stalls.  Merchants were shouting their prices, showing off their wares.  Silks, jewels, armors, weapons, and food.  Small dwarflings ran to and fro, giggling as they played with wooden dragons and fierce warriors.

The market seemed to go on forever, crossing over itself on various levels, with rickety ladders and strange pulley’s for merchants and goods.  This was the height of the Middle district, the industry of the market.

A slight looking dwarf came up, hood over his face.  Thorin didn’t think anything of him.  Most of the poorer dwarves wore hoods.  Dwalin, however, stiffened next to him at the sight.  Not unsurprising, as Dwalin seemed to be suspicious of anything that moved when he was out of the Rich district.

“Pardon me,” the dwarf said, very politely, pushing between Dwalin and Thorin.

Graciously, Thorin stepped aside and let the dwarf through.  He seemed to be a nice enough fellow, even if Dwalin glared at him with the fury of Mahal.  Thorin moved down the market, not bothered by the strange dwarf that seemed to have Dwalin all messed up.

“I’ll be back,” Dwalin mumbled.  “Do not get yourself into trouble.”

“When do I ever?” Thorin chuckled.  “You worry too much, old friend.”

“That is because I know what is out there,” Dwalin said, rather cryptically.

Thorin rolled his eyes.  “I’ll head back home.  You do whatever you need to do.”

Dwalin smiled and gave Thorin a brief, but strong, hug.  Something strange was happening in Erebor.  Dwalin might think that Thorin was oblivious to it all, but Thorin could feel it.  There was a tension growing in the air, strife between the districts, and somehow Thorin was right in the middle of it.

He only hoped that he could do right by his people.

* * *

 Dwalin knew this thief because this was no ordinary thief.  This was an assassin, but not just an assassin.  This was Nori, the Master Assassin, leader of their order.  He had been a thorn and an annoyance in the side of the Templars for many years.  This time, however, this time Dwalin would catch him.

Slowly but surely, he followed Nori through the marketplace, keeping a careful eye on the white hood.  He made sure to stop and pause occasionally.  Assassins were good at paying attention to Templars and guards and being aware of when they were followed.  But Nori had been good at escaping since he was nothing more than a thief.

Nori turned around, smirk on his lips.  Slowly and deliberately, he raised his hand, holding out a fine leather moneybag.  Dwalin hurriedly patted himself down, knowing his money was gone before he even looked.  He growled and stalked towards the assassin, murder clear in his eyes.

With a soft _fwump_ , the bag landed before his feet.

“Keep it,” Nori said, shrugging slim shoulders.  “And if you catch me, I supposed you can keep me too.”

And the assassin was gone, ran up a building, swung on a beam, and vanished.  Dwalin scooped up his money and climbed the building right after.  He had the unfortunate disadvantage of being larger and inexperienced in this kind of wall running.  If Nori wanted to, he could leave Dwalin behind in the dust.  Instead, Nori was staying behind, keeping Dwalin in sight.

That assassin wanted Dwalin to follow him.  That was infuriating.  Nori kept turning back, grinning and smirking as Dwalin huffed and puffed to keep up.

Dwalin didn’t know where exactly he was going; only that he was following Nori.  This time, this time for certain he was going to catch Nori.  If the assassins didn’t have their mentor, then the whole order would fall.

The Templars would be able to rule without opposition.

“This is my favorite spot,” Nori said, balancing precariously on edge of a balcony.  “You can see all of Erebor from here.  The Rich district and the palace.  The Middle district and the marketplace.  The forge to the west.  The Poor district, far to the south.”

Dwalin huffed up, standing on the balcony behind Nori.

“You said if I caught you, I could keep you,” Dwalin said, reaching out.

“ _If_ you caught me,” Nori turned his head slightly.  “What do the Templars teach you, if you believe you can catch an assassin?”

Dwalin lunged forward, hands outstretched.  His fingers brushed the Assassin robe but Nori had jumped from the balcony.

‘I’ll get you, Assassin!” Dwalin shouted, leaning against the rails.  “If it’s the last thing I do!”

“I’m counting on it!” Nori’s reply floated up.

Dwalin punched the wall.


	4. Housekeeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a bit of writers block and hoping that by posting this I'll be inspired.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

Nori sauntered back into the hideout, pleased with his day’s activities.  He flipped a coin into the air and caught it easily.  One of his Assassins came forward, left hand across his chest.  Nori waved away the formalities and motioned for him to speak.

“Were you successful, Mentor?” he asked.

“I managed to rile up Dwalin, keep Thorin’s love for the people burning bright, and steal a few coins,” Nori rattled off.  “I’d say that was a successful day.”

Actually, the day went rather poorly, in Nori’s mind.  Since he had to introduce Bofur, he hardly got the chance to scout out the city for more recruits.  Their numbers were growing low, Templars growing bolder each day.

If he had his way, Nori would take the Assassins straight to the Templars and tear them up from the inside out.  Unfortunately, this kind of work needed subtlety, which was something Nori was still working on.  Strange, he thought, that as a Master Assassin he was failing at the most important skill an Assassin would need.

“Tell me, Ryas,” Nori turned to the Assassin, tucking the coin into his sleeve.  “Do you think we will win?”

“Of course, Mentor,” Ryas said without hesitation.  “You are a good and strong leader.  We will follow you to glorious victory.”

“How do you propose we achieve it?”

“I do not believe I am qualified for such a question,” Ryas said gently, bowing his head.

“You are a Veteran, nearly an Assassin,” Nori brushed off Ryas’s protest.  “Tell me.”

“I believe the key is Thorin,” Ryas said slowly.  “Isn’t that why you are following him?”

“So tell me how am I going convince Thorin that his father, his father’s father, and all his relatives and close friends are Templars and he should join our order, who have been at war with his family for centuries?”

“Certainly not by saying all that,” Ryas chuckled.

“You really think so?” Nori raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

“Just trust your instincts,” Ryas said.  “You have led us well so far.  We will follow you to the bitter end, Mentor.  You’ve never failed us.”

Nori thanked him and walked up to his own room.

The Assassin Den was large and hidden in the mountain.  The entrance was a small crevice, hard to find.  From the crevice, the cave opened up into a huge, cavernous room.  Four levels high, with twisting tunnels, kept the den a maze and a stronghold.

Nori’s room was on the top floor, tucked against the cliff, with a large balcony facing over the entire city, one of his favorite views.  He sat down at his desk, pulling a map of Erebor towards him and a list of assignments.

Most of his night was spent matching up Assassins with various assignments throughout the city.  The courtesans and mercenaries had been doing a magnificent job of finding missions for the Assassins to do.  They would only take a few days and afterwards, Nori would have to have another ceremony.

It was about time for Ryas to become a full-fledged Assassin.

* * *

Nori spent the next week looking for recruits and sending his currant recruits on various missions.  He managed to get a couple of promising dwarves to the guild.  Ori didn’t have much information from the Templars, it was a busy week for them and they didn’t have time to visit the courtesans as much as normal.  Dori and his mercenaries were walking around the city as much as they could, preparing for something.

Something that Dori was trying hard to keep from Nori, which didn’t make much sense to Nori.  He was the Master Assassin and he was in charge of the mercenaries, thieves, and courtesans.  There wasn’t anything Dori should be hiding from Nori.  It wasn’t fair.

Nori ended up spending most of his time at the thieves’ guild.  Bofur was a great friend to have.  They would drink, laugh, and Nori would forget about his troubles.  Despite knowing that Nori had obligations to attend to, such as leading the Assassins, he needed a break.  The thieves’ guild always relaxed him, a place he spent much of his young dwarfhood in.  It was loud and crass and there was always money changing hands, flashing in the dim light.

Hardly the peace and solemn demeanor of the Assassins.

“You seem tense,” Bofur said, coming up to Nori with a mug in hand.  “What’s got you all riled up?  Is it Dwalin?”

“Not this time,” Nori shook his head, swirling his own drink.  “This time it’s family.”

“Ooh, family,” Bofur nodded sagely, his eyes twinkling.  “Dori then?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Instincts.”

“Look, I have a favor to ask of you,” Nori said, eyes instinctively shifting through the crowd.  “I mean a tremendously huge favor.”

“That’s was friends are for,” Bofur bumped into Nori’s shoulder.  “What’s going on?”

“Somehow we need to keep Thorin from falling under the Templars spell,” Nori said.  “Which means I need you to bring him to the poor district.  Let him see what kind of conditions his people are living in.  He’s a good dwarf and he cares about his people.  We need to keep that in his mind.”

“I’ve got the perfect plan,” Bofur grinned.  “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

Nori stared at Bofur, with his goofy hair and silly moustache; leader of the thieves, and perhaps one of Nori’s only friends at this point.  Being the Mentor changed the way others looked at him and Nori hadn’t realized how much that bothered him until he didn’t have any one to turn to.

It had been a long time since Nori had a friend to confide in.

“Dori’s hiding something from me,” Nori finally sighed.  “And it’s something important but he refuses to tell me.  He’s sending out his mercenaries on jobs that I’m unaware of and not telling me anything about it.”

“I’m sure he’s only protecting you,” Bofur said casually.

“I don’t want to complain to you if you’re only going to be reasonable about it,” Nori groaned.  “You’re supposed to tell me about how Dori’s oppressing me and that I’m right and in charge and I should know these things.”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted me to lie to your face,” Bofur shrugged.

“You’re a thief.  You’re supposed to lie.”

“I’ve lied about a great many other things to you besides Dori,” Bofur said.  “Like what Ori does in her spare time.”

Nori eyed Bofur sideways.

“What has Ori been doing?”

“Like I said, you don’t want to know.”

“Bofur,” Nori threatened.

“So I’m going to go run interference on Thorin,” Bofur stood up, patting Nori on the back.  “I just need you to get Dwalin away from him and I’ll keep our crown prince in love with the common people.”

Nori stood up and turned to give Bofur a piece of his mind, but the thief was fast and sneaky, disappearing before Nori could get a word in.  Damn it all.  Nori was not supposed to lose the leader of his thieves’ guild.  Though, it seemed the time had come for Nori to have a very serious talk with his sister.

 _The Sapphire Room_ was filled with a low light.  Women walked around, with beads and gems braided in their hair and beards.  Their clothes were cut in flattering fashions as they sauntered around the building, arm in arm with various customers.

“You must be here for Ori,” Bryna stopped at Nori, hand on her hip.  She eyed him up and down.  “She’s busy right now but I could entertain you if you wish.”

Bryna had vibrant red hair, long in various braids with various green gems weaved in.  Her beard was light and fluffy and eyes brown.  She was quite pretty, but all of Ori’s girls were beautiful in their own way.  She was tempting, Nori had to admit, but he had business to attend to tonight.  He couldn’t get distracted.

“Not tonight, dear one,” Nori said, kissing her hand gently.  “May I ask what my sister is up to?”

“Fili and Kili,” Bryna said.  “Thorin’s nephews.  They come almost every week, but only for Ori.”

Nori’s eyes widened.  If Ori also had connections to Thorin, then perhaps there was more of a chance to get Thorin onto their side.  Now Nori really had to talk to his sister.  If Bofur was working on Thorin, while Ori worked on Fili and Kili, then they might actually win this.

In a few moments, two boys bounded down the stairs, one blond and one brunette, with twin grins on their faces.  Those must be the boys that Ori was entertaining.  Well.  If Ori was entertaining them at the same time, no wonder Bofur felt the need to keep Ori’s life a secret from Nori.  Even knowing that they were Thorin’s nephews, and that this was Ori’s job, Nori wanted to keep his sister safe.

Silently, he walked passed the grinning boys (hardly a beard on either of them!) and jogged up to Ori’s room.  Her room was at the top, something she had grown to love from time spent with Nori.

Not bothering to knock on the door, Nori just walked in.  There wasn’t anything about Ori that would surprise him anymore.  She was lying on her back, silk sheets wrapped around her, hair sprawled around her head.

“You look comfy,” he mentioned briefly.

“Men are so easy to entertain,” she sighed, patting the bed beside her, which Nori gladly jumped onto.  “Which I’m sure you know.”

“Depends on the man,” Nori shrugged.  Dwalin didn’t seem to type to be entertained without consent.  “Those boys look like puppies though.  Hardly your style.”

“Hardly my type,” Ori scoffed.  “What brings you here?”

“You know who those boys are, right?”

“Part of the royal line of Erebor.  Nephews to Thorin, right?”

“So I need you to keep them coming,” Nori said.

“That’s my job,” Ori winked.

Nori groaned and buried his face in his hands.  “I do _not_ need to have that mental image.  Mahal, sister.”

“I assume you meant that you want me to keep the boys occupied so they don’t fall under the Templars rule, is that right?”

“Something like that,” Nori said.  He got up and opened the window.  “Well, this situation suddenly got really awkward.  I’m going to go.”

“Nori, wait,” Ori reached out and grabbed Nori’s wrist.  “Just… don’t tell Dori.”

Halfway out the window, Nori winked.  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	5. The Poor in Spirit

Thorin and Dwalin were walking through the Middle district again.  Thorin couldn’t help it.  He wanted to be with his people, those he was supposed to protect.  Not to mention that there was a certain amount of freedom and excitement that came from mingling with the common people.  Nothing here was structured like in the palace.  He pushed through the crowd, looking for someplace to eat.

“Hey, Dwalin,” Thorin turned, looking for his friend.

Only Dwalin was nowhere to be seen.  Typical.  There was this thief that Dwalin seemed dead set on catching.  It was a bit obsessive, if Thorin were to be honest.  Here Dwalin was, supposed to keep Thorin safe, but he spent all his time chasing after a thief.

Someone ran into Thorin, nearly knocking him over.  Thorin stood up, eyes narrowing on the culprit, a dwarf in a funny hat, running off towards the Poor district, laughing.  Great.  So Dwalin disappears and Thorin was left to chase after a pickpocket on his own.  Just what he wanted.

Thorin didn’t focus on where he was running, just ran and kept the thief in his sight.  The Poor district came into view and Thorin kept running.  He’d never actually gone into the Poor district, always on the edge, but never actually crossing into it.

The pickpocket led him into an alley and dropped the moneybag onto the ground, sprinting up a wall and leaping over a roof.  Thorin sighed and walked into the alley, scooping the bag into his pocket.

Then dwarflings started to gather around him, running up and tugging on his clothes.  They had rags for clothes and dirt on their faces.  They were thin enough that Thorin could almost see the bones through the skin.  Thorin looked down at them in shock.  What happened to these little ones?

“Here you go,” Thorin pulled out coin after coin, handing each of the dwarflings one.

They squealed and cheered as they ran back into their homes, hands held high with the gold gleaming between their fingers.  Why had he never noticed this before?  Why hadn’t anyone told him about the starving dwarves in Erebor?

“Did you lead me here?” Thorin asked into the empty air.

“You could say that,” the pickpocket swung down in front of him.

“How long have things been like this?” Thorin asked, looking around the decrepit buildings.  “No one ever told me.”

“That’s because no one cares,” the pickpocket said bluntly.  “Look around, Thorin.  These are your people.  Starving and miserable, with no help from your father.”

A long, chiming bell echoed in the streets.  Dwarves swarmed out of their homes, running over Thorin and the pickpocket.  They shouted and grinned, pushing each other in the streets good naturedly.

“Where are they going?” Thorin asked.

“It’s time to eat,” the pickpocket gestured for Thorin to follow.  “Name’s Bofur, by the way.  Nice to meet you.”

Together, they walked through the streets, bustled over by dwarves and dwarflings.  They were all dressed in the same raggedy clothes.  Thorin felt awkward standing there in his finery and sticking out like a sore thumb.  Bofur held out an old cloak wordlessly.  Thorin took it gratefully and slipped it over his clothes.

Following the crowd, Thorin saw a building with bright yellow light pouring from the windows.  Food was being handed out by a happy, fat dwarf.  It was only simple things like bread and thick stew.  Nothing fancy, but food nonetheless.

“We do this about once a week,” Bofur explained.  “Me brother and I.  Keeps their spirits up, you know?”

“I wish I’d known about all this earlier,” Thorin said as the dwarves dug into their small helpings of food.  “I should be helping them.  I’m their prince after all.”

“You can hardly do anything while your father is in charge,” Bofur said, putting a hand gently on Thorin’s arm.  “But if you ever find yourself with some extra food, you know where to bring it, eh?”

“Yeah,” Thorin grinned wryly.  “Thanks, Bofur.”

“Well, go on back to your place in the Rich district,” Bofur said.  “If you ever want to remember who you’re fighting for, you know where to look.”

Thorin reached to take off the cloak, but Bofur shook his head.

“Just in case,” he said.

* * *

Nori looked down at Dwalin.  The guard had chased him all the way up to the gate leading up to the Rich district without catching him.  Dwalin was looking back and forth.  Strange how they never teach Templars to look up.  Not that Nori was complaining.  Up is where Assassins hide.

“I know you’re here, Assassin,” Dwalin growled.  “Just come out already.”

“Perhaps you should come up,” Nori couldn’t help but taunt.  Dwalin just made it so easy.

Sure enough, Dwalin glanced up, eyes locking with Nori’s.  Nori winked.

“I’m going to catch you,” Dwalin said, staring at Nori hard enough to burn stone.

“I’d like to see you try,” Nori bent down until they were nearly nose to nose.

Dwalin swiped.  Nori grabbed his hand and pressed a quick, dry kiss to Dwalin’s wrist.  The Templar yanked his hand back, as though he’d been scorched.  Nori chuckled and ran off, jumping over rooftops and flying across Erebor.

That was something Nori hadn’t done in a while.  He’d taunted Templars before, but never quite the way he’d teased Dwalin.  This guard was something special.  Something about the way Dwalin’s face flushed red when Nori escaped made the Assassin want to do anything to keep the blush on his cheeks.


	6. New Beginnings

The Assassins Den was dark and empty.  Torches still smoldered, embers pulsing against the stone.  Deep in the Den was a large atrium, the ceiling high and vaulted, hardly reveling the mountain above.  A raised platform on the opposite end of the entrance held a brazier that was constantly lit, a pair of tongs resting in the fire.

Torches lined the walls, giving the atrium a warm glow over the gathered group of Assassins.  Nori stood on the platform, looking regal in his Mentor robes, hood covering his face.  Bedside him stood Ori, Dori, and Bofur; leaders of the various guilds.

The doors opened and Ryas stepped forward.  His head held high as he walked up the atrium floor.  Nori’s mouth twitched in a grin as his student stepped onto the platform.

“Ryas, son of Koras, welcome,” Nori said.

Ryas crossed his hand over his chest, head bowed slightly.  Nori, Ori, Dori, and Bofur all returned the gesture.

“You have proven your strength alongside the mercenaries,” Dori said.

“Exemplified your stealth among the courtesans,” Ori said.

“Shown your swiftness with the thieves,” Bofur said.

“And performed every task with unerring accuracy,” Nori finished off.  “Together, we welcome you into the Assassin Order.”

Nori stepped forward as the other three stepped back.  The silence that had been present in the atrium seemed to be thicker and more closed in.  It was the feeling of dozens of dwarves holding their collective breath.  The initiation had truly begun.

“Where others follow blindly, we remember – ”

“Nothing is true,” Ryas recited perfectly.

“Where others are limited by law, we remember – ”

“Everything is permitted.”

Nori reached over, pulling the tongs from the brazier while Ryas held out his left hand, face braced.  Assassins were born and bred to endure pains of every kind, with little or no sympathy to help them along.  Yet this moment was the cusp of all their training.  Nori opened the tongs and pressed the glowing metal onto Ryas’s ring finger.  It was held for only a moment, enough for the symbol of their order to be imprinted on his skin forever.

As one, the Assassins filed behind their leaders, through a hidden backdoor and up a large, stone staircase.  The top opened out to a wide balcony with a wooden beam out over the city.  One by one, the leaders stepped forward, each performing the Leap.  Ryas came up to the beam beside Nori, the rest of the Assassins gathered behind them.

“Congratulations,” Nori said, gripping Ryas’s shoulder tightly.  “Your father would be proud.”

“Thank you, Mentor,” Ryas said fervently, his eyes gleaming.

Nori walked backwards onto the beam, holding his arms out and falling from the mountain.  Taking a deep breath, Ryas took his first Leap as an Assassin.

* * *

Thorin sat in his room, holding the cloak in his hands.  It was a well made cloak, Thorin could see the skill beneath the years of wear and tear.  He was dying to know how Bofur had gotten a hold of it, and why he gave it to Thorin.

There were plenty of other members of the royal family who would be better suited to helping the poor.  Thorin had little freedom in Erebor, always having to report to his grandfather, or have Dwalin tailing him.  Royalty meant no privacy for Thorin.

Yet they were still his people, and Thorin felt obligated to help them, even if he couldn’t do much.  He could still do something.  Bofur seemed to trust Thorin quickly enough, and thieves were not one to trust easily.

And Bofur’s eyes had sparkled when Thorin said he was going to try and help.

Thorin sighed and swung the cloak over him.  He was going to make a delivery.

He was honestly surprised at how easy it was to sneak away from the palace.  He jumped from his window, sprinted past some guards, and was soon safe in the Middle district.  Erebor was dark at night, darker than normal, that is.  The glowing lights from homes and stores were gone, leaving only torches to light the way.  That was fine by Thorin.  He was less likely to be spotted in dim light.

The walk from his home to the Poor district was a long one, and it was one Thorin was not familiar with.  He walked past the gate that separated the Poor district from the rest of Erebor.  It was tall and, to Thorin’s surprise, guarded.  Two dwarves, well armed, stood as sentries.

Thorin wouldn’t be getting in that way it seemed.

However, after nearly an hour of walking through the city, Thorin realized he didn’t have another option.  There was no other way into the Poor district other than the gate.  He ended up sitting by the gate, hood carefully over his face, and pondered on what to do.

It was too late to turn back, Thorin knew that much.  He had food smuggled in his cloak and he wasn’t about to give it back.  Going through the gate, however, would compromise him, which Thorin could not afford.

Which brought Thorin to his final thought, the one that spun through his mind in circles: why were there guards at the Poor district?  What did they have to protect?  Or were they hiding something?  How had Thorin lived in the palace without knowing this?

“Sucks that there’s only one way in,” someone came up next to Thorin, sitting down beside him.

“That’s a word for it,” Thorin grumbled, turning away and hiding his face.

The dwarf lifted up her wide brimmed hat and grinned.  She looked homely, with large bright eyes and freckles on her cheeks.  Her clothes were worn and so patched it was impossible to know what the original fabric once was.  She looked kind enough, but Thorin was still wary.

“Don’t worry,” she said.  “I’m a friend.  Bofur said you might be around.  My name’s Mirra, Bombur’s wife.”

Thorin stared.

“Bombur runs the kitchen,” Mirra explained.  “He’s Bofur’s brother and does a lot to help around the district.  We all do, in a way.  We only have each other.”

Thorin’s chest constricted.  He hated this.  Reaching in, he pulled out a few loaves of bread and half a roasted pheasant from his cloak.

“It’s not much,” Thorin said, handing it to Mirra, “but it’s all I could manage to get away.”

“Oh, it’s more than enough,” Mirra beamed, taking the food.  He looked up at him with shining eyes.  “You are a good dwarf, Thorin son of Thrain.”

“It is my duty to help the people of Erebor,” Thorin said.  “That includes you and your folk.  No matter what the cost.”

“If only others shared your sentiments,” Mirra sighed.  She stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothes.  Pulling her hat over her face, she held a hand out for Thorin, which he took gratefully.  “I’ll tell Bofur that you came ‘round.  He’ll show you the back way if you ever come back.”

The walk back to the Rich district was much quicker than the walk out.  It was getting much later and soon, someone would try and check up on Thorin only to find him gone.  There were plenty of conversations Thorin was not excited to have with his father, and this was one of them.

Thrain would not approve of Thorin’s love for the people.  Dwalin had made that clear since they were children.  Thorin’s line did not rule with charity, but with force.  No matter how often Thorin pled with his father to change his ways, he did not believe that love and loyalty would stand.

Yet Thorin had seen it.  He had seen the loyalty of one dwarf overpower the fear of another.  He had seen love conquer hate.  What his father and grandfather were doing, it could only lead the people into dissent.

If only Thorin could make them see sense.

He slipped through his open window, rolling to his feet.

“And where have you been?”

Thorin recognized that voice instantly.  That voice had been with him for decades, always at his side with a clever remark.  A voice that held a wit sharper than Balin’s even.

“Hello, sister,” Thorin sighed, folding the cloak up and setting it gently in his closet.

Dis looked fierce in her nightdress, dark hair braided to the side and blue eyes flashing.  She had grown only more protective as her children reached maturity.  Thorin would not like to be on her bad side, though he frequently was.

“Do you have any idea how late it is?” Dis scolded.  “You are _lucky_ I didn’t call Dwalin to search for you throughout the city!”

“Keep your voice down!” Thorin said, hands hovering around Dis, trying in vain to calm her.  “Do you want to wake up the entire palace?”

“I’m considering it!  Now tell me where you’ve been!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Thorin said, turning to his bed and unbuckling his belt.

“I woul– I wouldn’t understand?” Dis voice raised a few octaves.  “Now, listen here, brother of mine – ”

“Trust me, Dis” Thorin turned around, shirt half off.  “This isn’t something I want you involved in.”

“Don’t you think that it is my choice?” Dis’s voice turned cold.  Thorin turned back to his bed, changing to his night shirt, hoping to end the conversation, but Dis would not be swayed.  “I make my choices, Thorin.  Not you, not father, not anyone!”

“I am trying to keep you safe!” Thorin shouted, staring determinedly at the bed, not daring to look at his little sister.  “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save Frerin, but I’ll be damned if I can’t keep you safe.”

Soft hands touched his back, wrapped around him, and Thorin was being pulled into a hug, Dis resting her head between his shoulder blades.

“Thorin, my brother,” she sighed, holding him gently.  “You cannot protect me forever.”

“At least let me try,” Thorin said.

“If it will help,” Dis said.


	7. Political Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been moving which is why there hasn't been an update. But there should be Internet in my apartment this Wednesday, so with luck, the updates might actually start to happen.
> 
> Thanks :)

The sound of weapons clashing against armor woke Dori from his sleep.  Leading the mercenaries meant no quiet time.  There was always training in the courtyard, brawls in the basement, and a cacophony of shouts to follow.  No better way to start the day.

Dori ran down the stairs of the guild.  The mountain was cool this morning and Dori had an agenda to keep up.  He walked out into the courtyard and the mercenaries snapped to attention.  Dori never got tired of that.

“Time to get to work,” Dori said simply.

The mercenaries split into groups of four each and left the guild, moving to scout the city and tail various guards and Templars.  It was Dori’s pet project of sorts, to keep his brother and sister safe.  As long as his mercenaries were patrolling the streets, then the Templars wouldn’t get to Nori or Ori.

Beside Dori was his second in command, a strong dwarf named Jakk.  He had risen high in the ranks of the mercenaries and exemplified everything they stood for.  He was broad with thick hair and flint-like eyes.

“How are the rest of the guilds?” Dori asked, motioning for Jakk to walk with him.

“Safe,” Jakk said.  “You know that you do not need to protect them.”

“Old habits die hard,” Dori said.  “I’ve spent my entire life protecting my little brother and sister.  It’s in my nature.”

Jakk grunted.  “And what has been discovered thus far?”

“Unfortunately, not much,” Dori sighed.  “But I have a meeting which might help.”

Jakk’s eyes sparkled, something that didn’t happen very often.  His eyes, when brimming with mischief, seemed to stare straight into Dori.  It had the ability to make Dori feel like a little dwarfling, even though he was in charge.

“You’re having tea with _him_ , aren’t you?”

“What does that matter?” Dori asked, face heating up.

“He’s a Templar,” Jakk said simply.  “You cannot compromise the Brotherhood.  It doesn’t matter what sort of information you’re getting, if you expose us and what we’re doing then everything is going to fall apart.  The Templars are going to find Nori and Ori and – ”

“You think I don’t understand that?” Dori snapped.  “I know what I’m doing, Jakk.  I don’t need you looking out for me or my family.”

Jakk looked ready to argue, but instead bowed his head, submitting himself to Dori, who huffed and turned away.  How dare he imply that Dori would somehow put his family in danger.  He had been watching after Nori when he was roped into the thieves’ guild.  He guarded over Ori when she became a courtesan.  When the three of them had joined the Order, he protected them with everything he had.  Nothing and no one was going to stop him from taking care of his family.

Yes, Balin was a Templar, and yes, Dori knew he ought to be careful with that, but he couldn’t help it.  While Nori was out assassinating guards and generally getting into trouble, Dori was simply supposed to train and build an army.  While Ori was lying in bed with dwarves who could murder her in her sleep, Dori was expected to wait and come when called.

That is when Balin came along.  He was a Templar, and he was rather quiet about what the Templars were up to.  Still, Dori was able to use the information he’d be given to keep his brother and sister safe.

That was what mattered most to Dori.  That is why he continued to visit Balin.

The tea wasn’t so bad either.

* * *

 

Dwalin sighed at his brother.  Balin had this habit of meeting with a dwarf Assassin for tea and brunch once a month.  Something about it being a diplomatic approach and that Dwalin should try it.  He didn’t buy it.  Balin had a taste for the finer things in life and, unfortunately for him, there weren’t many folks who would simply take tea with him.

Except for Dori, apparently.

“This is dangerous,” Dwalin growled as Balin pulled on his coat.  “He’s an Assassin.  Their kind kills ours.”

“And we kill them just the same,” Balin said gently.

“I just don’t understand why him, why an Assassin?”

“Because their order isn’t evil, no more than ours is,” Balin turned to face him, hand smoothing down the front of his coat.  “We are achieving the same ends, just by different methods.  There is much we could learn from them, and that is what I intend to do.”

“You cannot compromise us!” Dwalin burst out.  “If the Assassins learn what is in store for Thorin then all our efforts will be wasted.”

“I’m sure they already know,” Balin sighed.  “With Nori at the head.  I’m sure they know everything.”

“All the more reason for you to end this… this… thing with Dori!”

Balin turned to Dwalin, his eyes soft and heavy.  He had the look on his face of someone who had lived to see hundreds of years of battle and bloodshed.  Dwalin had never seen his brother look so defeated.

“I could say the same for you and Nori,” Balin said softly.  “One day, dear brother, it will all be clear to you.”

Dwalin growled and left the room.  Hardly aware of where he was going, Dwalin walked.  What Balin had said was near treason.  Thrain would have his head if he knew.  It wasn’t like Balin to renounce the Order.  Balin was the one who led Dwalin into the Templar Order, who had insisted Dwalin join.  Balin had been there, countless nights, teaching Dwalin the way the Templars thought, what their goals were, how they were to achieve them.

Peace, the ultimate goal, to be achieved through power.  Freedom, Dwalin learned long ago, caused chaos.

Now, however, it seemed that Dwalin was on his own to keep Thorin safe.

Something kept niggling at his mind though.  Balin said there was no good or evil in this conflict, only two sides struggling to meet the same ends.  Could that be true?  All his life Dwalin was taught that a free people made poor decisions.  That freedom caused anarchy.  He grew up learning that power was peaceful.  He spent his entire life dedicated to the knowledge of the Templar Order and how to bring peace to Erebor.

Dwalin looked up and found himself at the tallest spire in Erebor.  From this high in the mountain, he could see everything.  The entire city was beneath him, layers and layers of dark stone infused with green and yellow light.  The districts separated by huge walls that towered over the buildings and catwalks.  It was a marvelous sight to behold.

Pretending that Balin was right, that the Assassins were not completely evil, where did that put Dwalin?  Where did that put Nori?

The Assassin had become a present nudge in Dwalin’s mind, a constant reminder of what he was fighting against.  Dwarves that stole what they wanted and killed without mercy.  The Templars did the same, but at least they had the decency to follow the laws.  Never mind that the laws were created by Templars.

How many years had Dwalin spent chasing Nori?  More than half his life?  Perhaps even more than that?  And how many times had Nori slipped through his grasp?  How many instances were there when, instead of catching Nori and putting him in chains, Dwalin let the Assassin go free?

How many nights had Dwalin tossed and turned, Nori’s cocky grin floating in his dreams?

Despite knowing that Nori must die for the Templars to be successful, Dwalin couldn’t bring himself to kill the Assassin.  It would be like caging an eagle.

No, Dwalin shook his head.  He could never feel sympathy for the Assassins.  They were fighting the wrong side of this war.

* * *

 

“Your mercenaries have gotten more active recently,” Balin said, looking at Dori over his teacup.

Dori coughed politely, and set down his own teacup, dabbing his mouth dry.  The café was dimly lit and fairly crowded, a perfect place for a rendezvous.  Balin and Dori had met here frequently, often sharing stories and enjoying well made tea and cakes together.

Though recently, their conversations had taken a more serious tone.

“Actually, that’s why I wanted to meet with you,” Dori said.  “Nori doesn’t know, but there’s something dangerous coming.  I don’t know what it is, I haven’t the faintest idea, but the tension in the mountain is building.”

“That would be Thrain,” Balin sighed.  “He’s planning something for Thorin but… I can’t say what it is.  I will tell you this, however, Thrain is preparing for a war.”

“A war against us?” Dori leaned in close.

“To start with,” Balin whispered.  “You know what my people stand for.  You know what the Templars desire above all else.”

“Power.”

“Control.”

“What are we going to do?” Dori’s eyes flashed with protective panic.  “If Thrain intends to march to war against Nori and the Assassins… then we are done for.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Balin smiled and leaned back.  “I have someone who is going to help us achieve peace.”

“Are you… joining us?” Dori asked with a small smile.

“Mahal above, no,” Balin chuckled.  “I’ve got to keep Dwalin in line after all.  No, this is someone else.  I’ll arrange for him and Nori to meet.”

“Thank you,” Dori said, resting back in his seat.

“Anything to help an old friend.”


	8. The Recruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be getting Internet on Tuesday, so I should FINALLY be able to seriously continue this.

Nori was cleaning his blade off when the dwarf approached him.  He flicked his wrist and the hidden blade slid smoothly into the vambrace.  The dwarf was stocky, with a lion’s mane of yellow hair and piercing blue eyes.

“I was sent to find you, Nori, Master of the Assassins,” the dwarf said.

“And who sent you here, may I ask?” Nori demanded.

The dwarf didn’t look dangerous, but Nori didn’t stay alive by making assumptions about others.  Nori’s body was coiled, ready to spring into action.  A jump to the left on the wall, then up to the right and onto a flat ceiling and he would be running for the den in no time.

“Someone who wishes to see the Templars destroyed,” the dwarf said.  “My name is Niiref.  I can help.”

Nori eyed Niiref closely.  He didn’t look like much, with the rags for clothes and dirt smeared face.  Yet, Nori had worked with worse.  Hell, Nori had _been_ worse.  And Nori technically was in the market for new recruits.  It would be a crime not to accept this dwarf at his word.

“Very well,” Nori said, standing up straight.  “Let me take you to the Assassin Den, and we’ll see what you’re made of.”

At the Assassin Den, Nori took Niiref down to the training floor.  It was a large, open room, with ropes and beams hanging from the sides.  A rack of weapons stood on one end and straw dummies stood at the opposite.

“This is where we practice our speed and agility,” Nori said, gesturing to the ropes course above them.  “Templars can be quick on their feet when they want to, so we must be faster.  On the floor we train and fight.  As Assassins, we learn to be proficient with many weapon types as well as various fighting styles.”

“What’s this?” Niiref stopped in front of a chalkboard.

“Those are challenges,” Nori said.  “It’s nothing more than friendly competition between the Assassins.  Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the ranks.”

Nori threw his arms out towards another chalkboard, this one larger and more ornate.

“There are ten ranks in the Assassin Order.  As you complete missions, your name will rise up the ranks.  You start as a Recruit, and, with time, will make your way to Assassin.”

Nori glanced over the board.  Too few names decorated it.  But that was all going to change.  Nori was going to make sure of it.

“Your first assignment,” Nori turned and Niiref hurried to follow.  “There is a dwarf by the name of Lord Torin.  He’s been giving the thieves a hard time recently.  Go out into the city and see what you can learn of him.  Find out where he is.  Pull him out of hiding.”

“Yes, Mentor,” Niiref bowed his head.  “How am I to do that, exactly?”

“Visit _The Sapphire Room_ ,” Nori said.  “My sister will be waiting for you there.”

Niiref nodded and practically sprinted from the den.  He certainly had the makings of a good Assassin, quick, agile, obedient.  Nori couldn’t wait to see him rise through the ranks.  It would be a privilege to witness.

* * *

Ori stared at herself in the mirror.  She was hardly beautiful, by dwarfish standards.  Her beard was thin and wispy and so light it could hardly be seen against her skin.  Ori’s one and only trait of beauty was her hair, a trait that her brothers shared.  Still, it was better than nothing.

Whispers had begun to float through the Order, one of a new recruit, one plucked right out of the streets.  Nori rarely took in dwarves that approached him, believing them to lack the necessary stealth to be a true Assassin.  Whoever this dwarf was, he clearly made an impact on Nori.

Now it was time to see if this Niiref could impress Ori.

Gathering her skirts underneath of her, Ori walked down the stairs, letting her hair fly loose, as is common among her kind.  Perhaps she was being a bit theatrical, but it was rare she got to scare a poor, innocent dwarf.

Niiref stood awkwardly near the door, hands clasped tight behind him, rocking slightly back and forth.  His eyes flickered between each girl, as if unsure of where to keep his gaze.  Well, Ori could work with that.

“You must be Niiref,” Ori walked down the stairs, swinging her hips.

He glanced up, cheeks dusted pink, and glanced back at the floor.

“Um, yes, I am.  You must be Ori.”

“I must be,” Ori circled around him, taking him all in.  He was well built and had the look of someone who worked with his hands a lot, though his face was soft.  “My brother sent you here for one purpose and one purpose only.  To learn how to walk unseen, correct?”

Niiref’s eyes rested on Ori’s chest, before jumping back to her eyes.  He stammered out some affirmative statement and Ori chuckled.  She reached out and slid her hands up to his shoulders.

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes – I mean, no!  I mean, you could be distracting but not to me.  I mean - that is…”

Ori laughed and pulled away.  She rested her hands on her hips and shook her head.

“You are quite extraordinary,” Ori said.  “Come now, there’s much to learn.”

She led Niiref out into the small courtyard in the back of the brothel.  It was made of the finest marble and had a bubbling fountain in the center.  Courtesans and their customers were seated on benches.  Ori led him to a huge arch in the back, leading out into the city.

“Our kind remain hidden in plain sight,” Ori said, gesturing to the throngs of dwarves walking through the streets.  “We can be seen, but only by those whom we wish to be seen by.  Large crowds are your best chance of remaining hidden.”

“Wouldn’t they slow me down if I were escaping?” Niiref asked.

“A common assumption,” Ori walked out the door.  “But to escape, one must hide.”

She fell into the crowd and watched as Niiref lost sight of her.  She stepped out of the crowd and back to his side.  She nudged him to the street.  It was his turn to try.

To Ori’s complete astonishment, Niiref blending into the crowd near perfectly.  Even Ori, with eyes trained to spot Assassins and Templars in crowds, nearly lost sight of him.  Nori never found Assassins this good.  Most of the dwarves Ori trained in stealth believed in strength and speed.  Niiref was a natural.

“Are you pleased, Lady Ori?” Niiref asked, stepping up beside her.

“Quite so,” Ori nodded, starting a little at hearing herself called Lady.  “Remember that you can hide in places other than crowds.  Find carts or wells to hide in, or even stalls.  It is better to disappear than leave a trail of dead guards.  Now go and do your job.”


	9. Love in War

Nori glanced up as Niiref stepped into his office.  Time had been good to the recruit and he had risen up the ranks like an eagle.  He bowed his head in respect and proceeded to give his report.  Nori listened with rapt attention.  He had been busy the past six months, running messages from Erebor to the Iron Hills.  Ryas had been invaluable during that time, running the den while Nori was gone.

The Assassin Order was nearly at its peak performance.  Assassins were crawling over the city, running missions all over Middle Earth.  Nori had never been more pleased with the progress of his den.

Much of that was due to Niiref’s constant vigilance.  He had spent countless hours and days trailing Templars and preforming high class assassinations.  Without his efforts, the Assassin Order would not be near the power it had achieved.

“Describe that guard for me again?” Nori said.  “The one that was leading the army against the mercenaries?”

“Tall and big,” Niiref said.  “Very big.  Bald with tattoos.”

“Strange,” Nori mused.  “Dwalin’s not the type to start wars.”

“Much has changed since you’ve been gone,” Ryas stepped from the shadows.  “Things aren’t the way you remember.  Especially Dwalin.  Mentor, please be cautious with him.  It’s not the way it used to be.”

“I’m always cautious,” Nori protested.

“You need more caution than usual with this.”

“Please,” Nori scoffed.  “Dwalin is my specialty.  I can handle him.”

Ryas groaned and grabbed Nori by the arm.  Nori sighed and let his second in command drag him away.  Ryas was as hot headed as he was confident and Nori trusted him with his life.  Niiref followed them closely.  They came to the top of the den, the tower that opened up to the entire city, and Ryas threw his arm out.  He gestured to the mountain, to the dwarves that populated the city.

“We are here to protect the people,” Ryas said.  “Our Order stands here to keep Erebor free.  While you have been away, keeping our brothers safe in the Iron Hills, the Templars have been busy.  As our Order grows, so too does theirs.”

“All the more reason for me to visit Dwalin,” Nori pulled his arm free and stepped towards the beam that extended from the tower.  “If he’s busy chasing me then he can’t bother the Order.”

“But Mentor,” Niiref and Ryas both tried to speak.

“Trust me,” Nori put his arms out and fell backwards from the beam.

Nori and Dwalin had a simple relationship – one of chases and adrenaline.  They had been after each other since they were barely 70 and time doesn’t change instinct.  Nori knew from the day Dwalin chased him for hours after stealing a necklace that they were destined to be in this dance forever.

Jumping from the haystack, Nori slid into the crowd of dwarves, hood thrown over his head.  He wanted to find Dwalin and he wanted to find him _fast_.  There was no time for eavesdropping and following.  This required a different kind of approach.

There was a legend among the Assassins, a fairy tale of Assassins that were gifted with the vision of the eagles they professed to embody.  It was a trait that seemed to only gift a fair few, one that seemed to be passed from father to son.

And somehow, miraculously, Nori had been gifted with this Eagle Vision.  Since he was a small child, he’d been able to turn on this second sight and see the differences between friend and foe.  It had saved him and his family many times in the past.

He closed his eyes.  He sunk into himself, felt the eagle rise up and look through his eyes.  It was almost like fire through his body.  He opened his eyes to a darker world.

Red glowing dwarves dotted the vision before him.  Templars and guards, easily avoided.  A few dwarves glowed blue, the thieves, courtesans, mercenaries.  The rest of Erebor was dark and foggy.  On the ground before him was a faint golden trail, leading to the guard house.  He blinked again and the vision was gone.

Nori ran out to the ledge, jumping over the edge.  He shimmied over to the guard house and crawled through the window.  He was greeted with an axe blade.

“Still up to your old tricks then?” Dwalin said, eyes like diamonds, hard, bright, and cold.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Nori stood up, pushing the axe out of the way.  “What exactly have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”

“I have been doing my job!” Dwalin said, pushing Nori up against the wall.  “I have been doing everything in my power to stop you and your kind.”

Nori pushed Dwalin away and flicked his hidden blades out.

“Something about you is different,” Nori said.  “You are not the same dwarf I remember.  What happened to you?”

“I’ve finally seen my purpose, Assassin.”

“Strange.  I never thought your purpose was to be lapdog to Thrain.”

Dwalin charged forward, but the fight was hardly worth having.  Nori ducked and flipped Dwalin over before straddling his hips, hidden blade pressed firmly against Dwalin’s neck.  In any other circumstances, Nori would have been more than happy with this arrangement.  What he wouldn’t give to have this every day; Dwalin spread out beneath him.

“You do not understand all that Thrain has done for us, what he continues to do for us!” Dwalin said.  “He is keeping us safe from the anarchy that your Order would bestow upon us!”

“Thrain is _brainwashing_ you!” Nori groaned.  “He is turning the guards into mindless soldiers who have no thought for themselves!  You would have us all follow a dwarf blindly into bondage.”

Dwalin reached up and grabbed the front of Nori’s shirt, pulling him down until they were nearly nose to nose.  Nori could feel Dwalin’s breath on his face and tried to keep down his racing heart and flushing face.

“I have been going easy on you,” Dwalin growled and Nori could feel the vibrations in his chest.  “From now on, this is war.”

“Then consider this my first act,” Nori whispered, bent down and pressed his mouth fiercely against Dwalin’s.

It was just as good as Nori had hoped it would be.  Dwalin dug his hands into Nori’s hair and held on tight, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed tight together.  Nori crooned and rolled his hips.  He slid his hidden blades back into the vambraces and dragged his hands down Dwalin’s sides.

“I’m going to kill you,” Dwalin said, biting Nori’s lip.

“I’d like to see you try,” Nori rolled his hips again.

Dwalin’s moan shook Nori to his core.

* * *

Bofur slid into an abandoned house.  Thorin had been coming around the guild a few times every month, always with food and a friendly smile.  Bofur had spent most of that time keeping Thorin from trusting the Templars and it had been going quite well.  He hoped to catch Thorin on his way to the Poor district.

“You can’t do this!” Mirra popped up in the window, her face contorted in anger.

“Mirra!” Bofur jumped.  “Dammit woman, can’t you knock?”

“I know what you’re going to do,” Mirra leaned in.  “I know what you feel for Thorin son of Thrain.  And trust me, brother of my husband, you are in dangerous waters.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bofur said.

“And I’m sure that is what Nori keeps telling himself as he chases Dwalin.  And what Dori believes as he continues to be friends with Balin!” Mirra shouted.  “This is why we didn’t want you joining their Order!  The Templars and Assassins are of no concern to us!  They are just two groups trying to gain control of Erebor.”

“This has nothing to do with Templars or Assassins,” Bofur leaned through the window, pressing a finger over Mirra’s mouth.  “This is about me and about Thorin and I don’t think that it’s any concern of yours either!”

“When you get in over your head, don’t come crying to us,” Mirra said around Bofur’s finger.  She huffed and turned away.

Bofur shook his head.  Mirra wasn’t wrong, Bofur had grown to care for Thorin much more than he anticipated.  He had also become a bigger part of the Assassin Order, which meant that his actions had consequences.

 But this was Thorin, prince of Erebor.  No finer specimen of dwarfish looks could be found in all the mountain.  Bofur would be blind not to appreciate someone like that.  A gorgeous dwarf with a heart of gold.

Who happened to be walking down the streets right towards him.  Perfect.  Thorin was wearing the cloak that Bofur had given him.  It engulfed him and kept his royal clothes hidden, but despite Thorin’s best efforts, he still walked like a prince.  His shoulders were thrown back even if his head was cast down.  He walked with purpose and Bofur nearly giggled to himself.

He reached out, grabbed Thorin by the cloak and dragged him into the house, hand over his mouth.  Thorin’s eyes were wide and he had a small knife pressed against Bofur’s side.

“Bofur!” Thorin gasped.  “I was going to kill you!”

“You’d never do that to someone as sweet as me,” Bofur pushed Thorin’s knife into the sheath at his hip.

“No, I suppose not,” Thorin shrugged.  He looked at the decrepit house.  “This is a different place to meet.”

“Well,” Bofur hooked his fingers on Thorin’s hip, giving him a heated gaze.

“Bofur…?” Thorin reached down and took Bofur’s hand in his.  “Is there… is there something you want to tell me?”

“There are a great many things I want to tell you,” Bofur raised his other hand and gently touched Thorin’s cheek.  “But I think it’s enough to say that I’d like to have you.”

“Bofur…” Thorin sighed, weaving their fingers together.  “You can’t have me.  At least, not all of me.  You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Bofur scoffed.  “But come on, Thorin.  Princes gotta have their fun.”

“I’d rather not think of you as fun,” Thorin said.  “You are far too precious to be called that.”

“Then we’ll worry about it later,” Bofur shrugged.  “You and I have our secrets, we have our separate lives, and maybe that’ll change one day.  But as for now, there’s you and me and a lovely empty house.  Why not make the most of it?”

Thorin looked like he was about to protest.  Bofur ran a thumb across his cheekbone and Thorin’s resolve fell.  His eyes softened.  Bofur saw his chance and he took it.  He slid his hand to the back of Thorin’s neck and kissed him deep.

“I’ll be back tonight,” Thorin said into Bofur’s mouth.

“Is that a promise?”

“For you, it is.”


	10. First Attack

So much blood.  He didn’t know what he could do.  There were so many bodies on the ground.  Blood was slick on the stone.  He could see Dori, fighting for his life against too many guards.  He stood.  His head spun.  He fell.

When had all this happened?  He tried to remember, but everything was fuzzy.  He had seen Dwalin at the head of the group, leading the army.  It was an army.  Hundreds of dwarves against their little den of mercenaries.

They had been preparing for this for years, but when the time came, they were overwhelmed and undermanned.  It was a slaughter.

He had to get to Nori.  The Master Assassin.  The Mentor.  Nori would know what to do.  He could fix this.  He stood, hand over his stomach and covered with thick, warm liquid.  The Den.  He had to make it to the Den and everything would be okay.

The clang of metal on stone echoed in the air.  He looked up.  Dori had thrown down his weapons and raised his hands.  But that meant surrender.  That meant they were giving up.

“Dori…” he mumbled.

“Sometimes in the course of warfare, one must know when to give up,” Dori said.  “It is time to surrender, Jakk.”

Jakk’s vision grew blurry and wobbly.  The edges growing black.  He could feel the blood dripping through his hands.  How could they surrender?  How could Dori do this?  Didn’t he want to keep his family safe?

“No… Dori…” Jakk mumbled.

Dori, fearless Dori who led the mercenaries into victory after victory, winked.  Dori never winked.  The dwarf hardly smiled.  Jakk didn’t have time to think about what that could possibly mean before his vision faded and he slipped away.

* * *

The streets were quiet as Ori ran through them.  Her eyes were blurred with tears and there were bloodstains on her skirt.  She hated to think of the assumptions others might be making of her, but she could hardly care at this point.

Dori and his mercenaries were fighting Templars.  The image was practically seared in her brain.  Dead bodies on the ground, blood dripping from various wounds on Dori’s body.  Her big brother.  Her protector since she was a child.  Seeing him hurt and captured drove her to a panicked state and there was only one thing to do when Dori wasn’t around to help.

Go to Nori.  He would know what to do.  Nori always knew what to do.

She stumbled into the Den and Assassin eyes locked onto her.  It was rare for courtesans to visit the Assassin Den and Ori was quite the sight, hair frazzled, eyes wide and covered in blood.

“Lady Ori?” Niiref walked gently to her, arms held out placating.

“I need my brother,” Ori said thickly.  “I need to talk to Nori.  Please take me to him.”

“Of course.  He’s in his room,” Niiref stepped closer.  “Would you like me to take you there?”

“I know where it is, I’ll go myself.”

Ori walked to the stairs in the back, the Assassins parting and making a straight path for her.  Her skin felt tight around her body and there was an earthquake in her chest.  The stairs up to Nori’s room seemed much further than it had been before.

The war had begun and Ori had done nothing to learn of it.  That was her job.  She was Nori’s spy.  Where all others had failed to learn the Templar secrets, Ori had succeeded.  Now the mercenaries were dead, Dori was captured, and Ori had done nothing to stop it.

Hot tears fell down her face and she scrubbed them away angrily.  If Dori died… that would be her fault.  No one else’s but hers.  But Dori wouldn’t die.  Dori was far too strong to die, too stubborn.

Ori pushed through Nori’s door, not bothering to knock.  Nori was staring out his window, flicking his hidden blade in and out absentmindedly.  He turned when the door opened and smiled at the sight of Ori.  A smile which quickly faded into concern as the state of her.

“Ori?” his voice was gentle and soft.  A voice that Ori knew better than nearly any others.  A voice that brought her comfort when she thought there was none.  Nori came up and put his hands on her shoulders.  “Sister?”

The earthquake in her chest erupted and Ori pushed herself into Nori’s arms, sobs choking her voice.  She tried to tell him about what happened to Dori, about the slaughter that she had witnessed, but her throat wasn’t working.  Nori held her tight, hands running up and down her back, stroking her hair.

“It’s okay,” Nori whispered.  “It’s okay.  Start from the beginning.  Tell me what happened.”

“I was on my way to visit Dori and there was all this shouting and anger and when I turned the corner… there was war…” Ori mumbled into Nori’s chest.  “Dwarves were fighting, the mercenaries and the Templars.  Then… it was over and they surrendered.  The Templars took Dori away.”

“Dwalin,” Nori growled.

Ori pulled away, her eyes stinging, and gave Nori a very serious glare.

“Did you know about this?”

“Ryas and Niiref had mentioned it to me a few days ago,” Nori said with a shrug.

“You knew?” Ori forgot all her sadness and felt anger well up instead.  She pushed Nori away.  “You knew that Dwalin was leading the Templars against Dori and you did nothing?”

“I did do something about it!”

“Oh, because chasing Dwalin like a love-sick puppy is going to stop him from waging war on our people,” Ori laughed humorlessly.

“Better him chasing me than you!” Nori lashed back.  “And I’m not a love-sick puppy!”

“You’re right,” Ori said with a condescending tone.  “I’ve seen love-sick fools and you have far surpassed all of them together.”

“Get out!” Nori shouted.  “Do not talk about things you do not understand.”

“You better figure out which side of this war you are on, brother,” Ori said venomously.  She pushed past him, walked to the open window, and jumped.

The hay bale was at the front of the entrance to the Den.  Ori snuggled deeper into the hay and began to cry.  Again.  It seemed as though her entire world was crashing down around her.  Dori was in prison, Nori had lost his damn mind.  For the first time in years, Ori felt really and truly alone.

There was no point in feeling sorry for herself.  Ori was raised in the Assassin Order.  She was the head of the courtesans.  Surely she could figure a way out of this mess.

The hay shifted slightly as another body fell into it.  Ori started to scramble out, but a hand grabbed onto hers and dragged her back into it.

“If you leave then the guards will attack you,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

Ori pushed the hay aside and saw a female Assassin.  Her hood covered her eyes but her mouth was quirked up in a slight grin.

“May have had an incident with a guard or twelve,” she shrugged.  “My name is Carys.”

“Pleasure,” Ori smiled weakly.

“Now tell me, Miss Ori, what is one such as yourself doing hiding in a bale of hay like a common thief?”

“It’s complicated,” Ori sighed.

“Your brother is the Mentor, I can imagine,” Carys said.  She pushed her hood off and leaned backwards into the hay.  “But we might be here for a long time.  Why not tell me and stave off the boredom?”

Ori somehow found herself agreeing and laid down in the hay.  She told Carys about Dori and Nori and how they always looked after her.  She talked about how they came to join the Assassins and how each of them were promoted in turn.  Then she talked about Dori’s capture and Nori’s complete and utter betrayal.

“The Mentor is wise,” Carys said.  “If a bit unorthodox.  His methods are sound and sure and he has never led us astray.”  Ori opened her mouth to protest but Carys pressed a hand over her mouth.  “But he is distracted by Dwalin.  I’m sure you know how men get when they’re obsessed over something.”

“You clearly haven’t met the nephews of Thorin, have you?” Ori chuckled.

“Fili and Kili, right?” Carys peeked out of the hay.  “Come on out, coast is clear.”

Carys stepped out, and held out a hand to help Ori.  With the light of the torches, Ori could see that Carys was a really beautiful dwarf woman.  Her skin was dark and littered with scars.  Her dark hair was thick in a long braid down her back which matched her soft beard.  Ori stopped and stared.  That had been a surprise.

“Hello,” Ori said.

“Hello,” Carys smiled and took Ori’s hand, leading her down from the hay.  “Do you want me to talk to Nori?”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Ori sighed and stepped gently onto the ground.  “He always does.”

“Is there anything you want me to do, Miss Ori?” Carys asked, bowing her head slightly.

“Stay with me?” Ori asked without thinking.  Her face exploded with heat and Carys giggled softly.  Ori spluttered, trying to cover her mistake.  “I mean… stay with the courtesans.  If the Templars are after me – I mean us – then it would be good to have an Assassin.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Carys said, her eyes twinkling.  “If that’s what the courtesans want.”

* * *

Dwalin ran down the stairs.  The siege against the mercenaries had gone much better than anticipated.  They had won with hardly a fight and taken Dori, their leader, into prison.  There was a time when Balin would have been beside him, celebrating the victory against the Assassin order.  But Dwalin doubted that Balin would have celebrated the capture of his friend.

Wouldn’t Dwalin feel the same if it were Nori in prison?

No.  No.  Of course not.  Dwalin did not care for the Assassin.  He could not care.  He was meant to bring in the shining glory of the Templars into glory.

He only wished that he could share this victory with Thorin.  How badly he wanted to.  It was frustrating to keep this a secret for so long.  Someday.  Someday when the Templars have won, Dwalin would finally be able to tell his friend everything.

He was running through the streets, eager to be home and relax, when he ran into Thorin.  His friend was wearing a raggedly old cloak that covered his royal tunic with a large hood that covered his face.  Dwalin had never seen Thorin in that before.  Strange.

“Thorin?” he asked, grabbing his arm.

Thorin jumped, literally jumped, as Dwalin grabbed a hold of him.  “Dwalin?”

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Dwalin asked with a laugh, looking down at his friend.  “You look like a peasant!”

“I’m just going for a walk,” Thorin said, pulling himself free.

“Dressed like that?”

“I don’t want to be seen.”

Dwalin scoffed.  Being noticed as royalty never bothered Thorin before.  If anything, Thorin wanted to prove that he was a king who cared for his people.  He wanted to build a reputation for himself among the common people.  He was just that kind of dwarf.

“Look, Dwalin,” Thorin said.  “I don’t ask questions about what sort of things you’re up to that you don’t tell me and I want you to treat me the same.”

Dwalin paused and gave Thorin a strange look.  How had they come to be so distant from one another?  There was a time when Dwalin would have told Thorin all his secrets, when they were closer than brothers.  Then Dwalin joined the Templars and everything seemed to change.  Dwalin spent more time chasing after Nori than walking through Erebor with Thorin.

“Oh, okay,” Dwalin said, his voice echoed in his lungs.  “I guess I’ll leave you to it then?”

Thorin smiled and clasped Dwalin’s arm.  “Thank you, old friend.”

Dwalin could do nothing but watch his friend leave the mountain, cloak carefully covering his face.  He wasn’t sure how he managed to make it back to his home without falling in a chasm, considering how fast his mind was spinning.  He opened the door, dropped his weapons, and collapsed onto a nearby chair.

He thought back at Dori, bound in prison with his head still held high and proud.  He had felt so pleased with his success in bringing down the mercenaries.  He had done right by the Templars and was praised for his victory.  Balin had only sighed and walked away, face cast down.  That was the image that plundered his mind when Dwalin thought of Dori in chains.  It wasn’t the proud smile of his father, the pleased gleam in the King’s eyes, it was his brother’s sad and weary face.  It niggled at his brain and left a sour taste in his mouth.

“I should kill you,” Nori said from Dwalin’s window, peeking in.

“For your brother?” Dwalin guessed, unable to find the energy to fight.

“And my sister,” Nori climbed through the window.  “So where is he, big guy?”

Dwalin stared at the Assassin.  Nori had spent more than his fair share in prison.  He knew exactly where in The Vaults Dori would be found.  There was no reason for Nori to come and question Dwalin about where his brother’s cell was.  So why was he here?

Briefly, Dwalin entertained the thought that their last meeting had been such a success that Nori had come for another round.  Just the passing thought of it felt foolish to Dwalin.  Nori could have whatever and whomever he wanted.  There was no reason to waste time and energy on a Templar soldier.  Nori coughed and tapped his foot.  He was still waiting.

“You know where he is,” Dwalin said.  “Go free him, if you wish.”

Nori grinned and moved to jump out the window, but he stopped halfway through.  Turning around, Dwalin was faced with the most curious glare he’d ever gotten from the Assassin.

“You’re not going to stop me?” Nori asked.  “No death threats, no chase?”

“Not tonight, Assassin,” Dwalin sighed and closed his eyes.

The window slammed shut.  The sound echoed in Dwalin’s hollow chest.

Perhaps it was time for Dwalin to admit to himself that he did care for Nori, in a strange sort of way.  He could admire a dwarf that was ready and willing to die for his beliefs, even if they were wrong.  Maybe they didn’t have to be separated by Templar and Assassin.  Maybe they could be something different, something that was their own, like Balin and Dori.

But never, ever, would Dwalin forsake his people.  The Templars would win, as was their right.  A friendship with Nori could not change that.  Dwalin was a loyal dwarf and even a cheeky thief couldn’t change that.


	11. Discovered

Dori was bored.  Never once in his entire life had he had the luxury of time alone.  There was always Nori to reprimand or Ori to coddle or mercenaries to threaten or Templars to kill.  This was new and strange and Dori didn’t know what to do with himself other than get angry.

The Templars came and destroyed his guild.  _His_ guild!  He had spent _years_ working on building up the mercenaries to become a fighting force worthy of fighting the Templars.  Then Dwalin charged in and destroyed it all.  So many had died that day.  Those who survived were locked alongside Dori in the dungeons of King Thrain.  The Vaults.

Nori hadn’t exaggerated.

The Vaults were not as drab and dreary as Dori had expected.  They were just as bright as the rest of Erebor, if a little colder and a slight bit damp.  Hardly the vision Dori had imagined.  The Vaults were known for wearing down prisoners until they were only a shadow, willing to confess to whatever the Templars asked of them.

Dori had come very close to that.  While The Vaults were not much different than the rest of the mountain, there was an air in the prison cells that dragged through his lungs and poisoned Dori’s body day by day.  His stone sense, which once allowed him to see the life of the mountain, faded away until all he saw before him were rocks.

In those moments of weakness, when Dori was ready to confess whatever was asked to get out of the stifling air and stone pressing in all around him, that is when Balin came.

“I am so sorry,” Balin had said during their first visit.  “This was not supposed to happen.  It is far too soon.”

Balin had brought information from the rest of the mountain, at least as much as he could without raising suspicion.  Ori was safe.  Nori was safe.  The Templars were lying low and waiting for the right time to strike.  Dori was driven to insanity not being out there to help the Assassins.  He had tried to escape, of course he had, but these cells were strong and Dori, weakened and disheartened, stood no chance against them.

Slumped against the wall, Dori tapped it mindlessly.  His stone sense had long since failed him, but he kept tapping, hoping it would be reawakened somehow.  If he could just feel the mountain, see and feel the cracks and life that the stone carried, then he would be okay and he could make it.  But he couldn’t and all he felt was rock and darkness and it was as though the entire mountain had failed him.

“We’re never getting out, are we?” Jakk said from the cell beside him.  His voice worn and haggard.  Dori wished he had the words to comfort his second in command, but he too was feeling hopeless.

“I don’t think so,” Dori sighed.  “It has been an honor to serve with you.”

“And with you.”

A new voice filtered over them, bright and mocking.  It broke through the fog in Dori’s mind and he rushed to the door of his cage.  Dori knew that voice.

“Well if you feel that way, then maybe I’ll leave you here.”

Down from the rafters swung Nori, Assassin robes brilliant white against the dark stone of The Vaults.  He landed gracefully in front of Dori, keys jangling in his hand.  Dori could have fainted with joy.

“I don’t know how you got those keys but for once, I don’t care,” Dori said breathlessly.  “Hurry up and get us out!”

“Easy there, brother,” Nori slid the key into the lock and turned it.

The door swung open and Dori grabbed his brother and pulled him in for a tight hug.  Nori chuckled and held Dori just as tight.  They have always had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were brothers and brothers would always stand united.

* * *

This wasn’t his area of expertise.  He was a thief, a pickpocket.  He stole coin purses, not information.  That was the job of the courtesans.  It had been weeks since the mercenary guild fell and the Order still felt that blow to their core.  It kept the thieves twitchy, the courtesans crabby, and the Assassins angry.

Twitchy thieves meant a haggard thief lord, and so Bofur found himself at _The Rusty Nail_ more often than not, drowning his sorrow in cheap ale and bawdy conversation.  Which is how he ended up eavesdropping on the conversation to begin with.

“Thrain has sent for help,” a Templar guard was whispering to his table.  “His nephew from the Iron HilaHaHhalkdjsfal;kdsfjHHills is coming!”

“Dain Ironfoot?” the others hissed in surprise.

Bofur’s back stiffened at the name.  Dain Ironfoot was not a dwarf to be crossed.  He was a Templar Lord of the Iron Hills, one who was known for being ruthless and cunning.  He could stop a riot before it even began and rumors of his cruelty to the poor had circulated far and wide among the Assassins.

If Dain was coming then Mahal save them all.

“He should be here within the week,” the Templar said.  “He’ll help us win this war.”

Bofur downed his drink, tossed a few stolen coins onto the counter, and left.  This was information that Nori needed to know.

Normally, Bofur would run over the roofs of Erebor to the Assassin Den, it was quicker and kept his wall running sharp.  This time, however, Bofur had a lot on his mind.  He once risked running over rooftops while distracted and tipsy and nearly fell.  Better to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.

Dain was Thorin’s cousin.  Though they grew up apart, they were still close and to kill Dain would be a tremendous blow to Thorin.  But what else could Bofur do?  Dain would come to the Poor district and destroy them.  He would torment and hurt the poor of Erebor until there was no Poor district.  Bofur couldn’t allow that to happen.

Three blocks later and Bofur realized he was being followed.  The dwarves from the tavern were behind him, the Templar leading.  Bofur only had his short sword.  He hadn’t considered that he might be attacked.

And this is why thieves were not the ones sent to eavesdrop on conversations.

Bofur ducked into an alley, looking for a tunnel to sneak into, a quick and silent way to the Assassin Den.  The dwarves followed.  In a scuffle, Bofur could probably handle himself fairly well.  At least, well enough to escape and run to safety.  That was against dimwitted guards or drunken dwarves.  Never had he been tested against a true Templar leader and his followers.

It would be difficult to defeat them.  By Mahal, it would be difficult to even survive a fight against them.  Given the choice, Bofur would run away.  But he had no choice.

“Thought you could get away, thief?”

Bofur turned around with a charming smile on his face.  “Little ole me?”

“We know who you are,” the Templar towered over him.  “You are Bofur of the Thieves’ Guild.”

“Such a lovely title,” Bofur chuckled.  “And such lovely manners, coming from a thug.”

The Templar drew his sword with a glare.  If that was supposed to threaten Bofur, it worked extraordinarily well.  The others drew their weapons as well.  Bofur was in so much trouble.  This was how he was going to die.  Killed in a back alley by Templars.  Hardly the way he had expected to die, but there wasn’t a lot of other ways to go once you joined the Assassin Order.  If this was to be his final stand, then Bofur would enter the Halls of his Fathers with his head held high and sword in hand.

“Tell us where Nori is,” the Templar said.  “Or we’ll kill you.”

“I had expected so much more from you,” Bofur sighed, fear coursing down his body.  “You’ll just kill me?”

“To start.”

Bofur’s mind flew back to his family, to Bombur and Mirra who wanted nothing to do with this feud.  If they were caught then Bofur couldn’t live with himself.  Though he probably wouldn’t be alive to have those regrets.  Bofur didn’t have a great poker face and no doubt his fear was plastered all over.  A fact confirmed as the Templar grinned.

“Will you speak now, Thief?”

Bofur’s hands started to shake.  He was absolutely quivering in his boots.  He couldn’t quite gather enough air to his lungs and his mind was thrown into overdrive.  There had to be something he could do, anything, to keep his family safe.

If the Templars found Bombur and Mirra, then there was nothing stopping them from finding Nori and the rest of the Assassins.  They would find everyone and destroy the entire Order.  Dori (who just came back from prison) would be killed, as would sweet Ori.  Ryas and Niiref.  They would all be gone.

The entire Order rested on Bofur’s shoulders for one brief second and the weight of it nearly crushed his soul.

“Hey!”

The Templar and his thugs turned around.  Bofur felt the tension in him snap.  His muscles were cut loose and he fell limp against the wall.  His breath was ragged and tore through his chest.  There, at the mouth of the alley, was the only dwarf that Bofur ever wanted to see.

“Master Thorin!” the Templar bowed himself low.  “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Thorin said, throwing his hood off and standing tall and regal.  Bofur’s breath caught in his throat.

“We were merely taking care of this _scum_ ,” the Templar gestured to Bofur, his voice dripping with condescension.

“I think I shall decide what to do with him,” Thorin said firmly.  “You may leave.”

“But, sire!  You don’t know who this dwarf is!”

Bofur’s heart stopped.  No.  Anything but that.  If nothing else, Nori had drilled it into Bofur’s head to never let Thorin learn of the Assassins and Templars until the times was right.  Whenever that was.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the alley and Thorin was standing right in front of Bofur.  His blue eyes were bright and face soft.

“No,” he said gently.  “I believe I do know who this dwarf is.  Now leave.”

The Templar scrambled out of the alley, the others trailing after him helplessly.  Bofur let out a breath and collapsed against Thorin.  Familiar arms wrapped around him and Bofur felt close to tears.  He’d been close to life and death before, but those moments only held his life.  These Templars held the lives of everyone Bofur loved in their hands.

They had Thorin in their hands.

“I thought you’d be beyond this,” Thorin said gently.  “Scared witless by a couple of guards.”

“I’m not scared of them,” Bofur said.  “I’m scared of what they’re gonna do.”

“They aren’t going to do anything as long as I’m here,” Thorin pulled back and rested a hand on Bofur’s cheek.  “I’m on your side.  No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Bofur repeated.

* * *

Balin had been immersing himself in the library when he first caught wind that something was amiss in the Templar Order.  He’d been elbows deep researching how far back the feud had gone, with little success, when a Templar guard ran in, face blotchy and breathing labored.

“Master Balin!” he said, coming forward and giving a short bow.  “His Majesty, Lord Thrain, has requested your presence in the throne room.  Something has happened.”

Warning lights began to go off in Balin’s head.  Thrain rarely called all the Templar Masters into one meeting.  Something must have upset the plan tremendously.  Balin gathered all his books into a stack, straightened his papers, and followed the guard to the throne room.

Before he even stepped into the throne room, Balin knew what he would do.  He had been a faithful servant ( _a_ _pawn_ ) to the Templars for decades.  He had abused his power, tortured and imprisoned innocent dwarves, all for the greater good.  But not anymore.

The Templar Lords stood beside the throne, waiting for the news.  Balin took his place beside his brother.  Dwalin’s eyes flickered back and forth and his fingers were worrying a hole in his new tunic.  Interesting.

The doors opened and in stepped Orrick.  Balin never liked him.  Too thuggish for his tastes.  He had tried for years to expel him from the guard, but Orick was faithful, loyal, and ruthless.  Traits the Templars needed in their guards.

“What news have you?” Thrain demanded.

“I have seen your son,” Orrick said.  “He is consorting with a commoner.”

Thrain scoffed and the entire court chuckled at that.  Consorting with a commoner?  Every young, rebellious prince had spent time with the commoners.  It was hardly news to balk at.  Balin saw Dwalin heave a sigh, his fingers stilling.

“This is hardly worth our time,” Thrain said, waving his hand.

“This commoner is none other than Bofur!” Orrick shouted desperately.

Dwalin stiffened up next to Balin, who felt rather faint.  Thorin was consorting with the leader of the thieves’ guild.  Thorin was in close contact with the Assassin Order.  Part of Balin wanted to praise Nori for his quick thinking in teaching Thorin of their ways.  Part of him was devastated that they had been discovered so quickly.

The entire room was silent at Orrick’s outburst.  All eyes were on Thrain.

“My son, consorting with an Assassin?!” he roared, standing up from his throne.  “I will not stand for it!”

“Sire, if I may,” Fundin stepped forward, a gentle hand on the king’s arm.  “My men will hunt him down and we will make him pay.  We are already marching against the courtesans.  Soon, my Lord, soon, we will have the thief in chains.  Until then, Dwalin will keep a very close eye on him.”

Dwalin nodded the affirmative and Balin felt his heart sink.  Even with his help, the Assassins were in serious trouble.  He would have to think carefully about what to do next.


	12. Assassination

There was no more time to wait.  Now it was time to act.  He had spent countless weeks hunting out the Templar Lords.  Now it was time for his blade.  Dain of the Iron Hills would not be in Erebor for long and Nori needed to strike quickly.

After Bofur’s warning that Dain was arriving, it was only a matter of time before Ori sent out her feelers, searching for this infamous dwarf.  His name was whispered like a plague among the poor of Erebor.  Bombur had to close down his soup kitchen and the thieves were beside themselves with stress.

Despite all the whisperings and murmurings about Dain, Nori had yet to actually see him.  Dain was famous for sending out others to torment the commoners.  In the weeks since his arrival, the market had been destroyed, countless innocent dwarves had been hauled to prison, and the executions went through the roof.  It had to be stopped.

Nori stood on the brink of the marketplace.  He kept his eyes trained on the gallows, where three of Bofur’s thieves stood on trial.  According to Ori, Dain was supposed to be overseeing this execution personally.  A perfect time to strike.

“This is dangerous,” Niiref said from beside Nori.

“Assassinations are always dangerous,” Nori replied easily.

“I meant assassinating Dain is dangerous,” Niiref said.  “Think of the political upheaval it’ll bring upon us.”

Nori paused and turned to face Niiref.  He’d watched the dwarf grow from Recruit to Warrior, but never seen this side of him.  Niiref suddenly had an air about him.  His head was held high, his eyes were cold, and his shoulders thrown back.  It Nori didn’t know better, he’d think this dwarf had come from the Rich district.  He motioned for Niiref to continue.

“Dain is a prince in the Iron Hills,” Niiref said.  “How do you think those dwarves would react if their crown prince died on a trip to Erebor?  They would place blame on Thrain and his guards and we would be at war.”

“We’re already at war,” Nori said sharply.  “The Brotherhood in the Iron Hills is more than prepared to deal with the repercussions of this.  We must prepare to deal with them ourselves.”

“Yes, Mentor,” Niiref bowed his head, the humble servant once more.

The crowd gathered around the gallows began to stir.  Dain was arriving.  Nori patted Niiref and jumped down into the crowd, blending seamlessly among them.  Dain walked forward, cutting through the crowd effortlessly.  He was dressed in the finery of the Iron Hills, velvet the color of blood, gold and silver threaded through his hair.  He oozed regality and knew it.  Nori couldn’t wait to sink his blade into Dain’s throat.

Weaving his way through the throng, Nori stood at the edge of the gallows, tucked hidden away from Dain’s eyes.

“Silence, dwarves of Erebor!” Dain shouted from the gallows, throwing his arms out.  The crowd fell into a hush and Dain grinned.  “I have come to you from the Iron Hills to rid you of the plague that has beset your mountain.  The plague I speak of is not one of physical ailment, but of the safety and security of your people!”

There was a great deal of appreciative murmuring at that line and Nori bristled.  Dain preened and puffed his chest out even more, the mithril clasps on his cloak glinting.

“These thieves would destroy everything that your king has worked for!  King Thrain has worked tirelessly to keep you safe and fed and happy.  Yet there are some who would seek to destroy our way of life!  There are those in this very mountain who would bring chaos into Erebor!”

The crowd began shouting abuses at the thieves, roaring for justice and blood.  Nori’s own blood went cold.  The rumors were true.  Dain could quell any insurrection before it had the chance to get started.  Nori glanced up at the thieves.  They were young and the terror shone bright in their eyes.  Bofur had pleaded with Nori to save them.

“The time has come for us to show these dwarves what it means to defy the King,” Dain said.  “It is time we take back Erebor from those who strive to destroy her from the inside out!”  He stepped back to the lever.  “With the death of these dwarves, we will usher in the new age.  An age of peace!”

Nori jumped from the crowd, three knives flying from his hands.  They sliced the rope cleanly and the thieves fell to the gallows.  Dain’s eyes widened minutely.  Nori grabbed his shoulder, hidden blade free, and stabbed him in the chest.

Time seemed to slow down around him.  The crowd was screaming and running.  Warm blood coated Nori’s hand as he gently lowered Dain to the ground.

“So we meet, Assassin,” he said.

“So we meet,” Nori said.

“I always knew that I would die by your hands,” Dain coughed.  “Our kind always die by yours.”

“Tell me what you have planned for Thorin and I shall ease your passing.”

Dain laughed darkly, blood bubbling out his mouth.  “As if I would tell you, Assassin.  But it wouldn’t be fair of me to let you suffer.  Thrain has Thorin locked away, so far away where that thief can’t get him.  Soon, very soon, Thorin will know the truth.”

Nori’s heart sunk as Dain froze beneath him.  The Templars had discovered Bofur and Thorin.  It was only a matter of time before they found out.  Bofur would be devastated.

“May your soul find the rest you sought in life,” Nori said gently, closing Dain’s eyes.

Shouts echoed around him and Nori glanced up.  The guards had finally arrived, but no Dwalin to lead the charge.  Nori’s chest tightened and he shook his head.  This was not the time to get sentimental.  Jumping to his feet, Nori ran up the scaffolding of the gallows and sprinted far away.


	13. Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters updated today.
> 
> I've been holding this for a while so I figured it was time to update and keep this fic moving.

Thorin was pouting.  He could admit that with a clear conscious.  He was doing a princely pout, but he was, indeed, pouting.  For reasons that no one would tell him, Thorin was confined to his room with Dwalin guarding him.  He wanted to talk to Bofur.  He wanted to see him, more than anything else.  Thorin wanted to see the dwarf he had come to love.

“If you keep pouting, then your face will stick that way,” Dis said, sliding gracefully into his room, tray of food balanced perfectly on her hip.  Her two sons jumped in after her.

“Good,” Thorin deepened his frown and he crossed his arms for good measure.

“Thorin,” Dis scolded, placing the food on a table.  “What’s happening to you?”

“It’s complicated,” Thorin sighed.

Dis narrowed her eyes.  Fili and Kili instinctively hid behind Thorin.

“Months ago you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing to keep me safe.  Do not assume that I am too weak or innocent to understand.  Talk to me.”

Thorin sighed and motioned for Dis to sit beside him.  She sat on his bed, the boys behind them.  All three eager for Thorin to speak.

“I met this thief,” Thorin started, smiling without thinking.

Slowly the story came out.  Thorin talked about Bofur and how they met.  He talked about the Poor district, the guards that kept guard of it day and night.  He talked about the horrible conditions that those dwarves were living in.

All the while, Dis didn’t say a thing.  She nodded when Thorin took a break in his talking, but didn’t say anything else.

“He’s something else, Dis,” Thorin said.  “I don’t know what and I can’t explain it, but I think I love him.”

“There is something tremendously important that you need to know,” Dis said somberly, taking Thorin’s hands in hers.  “There’s something more at stake than you understand.  Now here is what we’re going to do.  The boys and I are going to distract Dwalin and you are going to find this thief of yours and ask him to tell you everything.”

“What do you mean, everything?” Thorin asked.

“Go talk to him,” Dis stood up.  “Come on boys, let’s get this things going.”

Thorin’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to what his sister had said when she and her children flounced out.  Trust Dis to train her children to become an army at her disposal.  He grabbed his cloak and jumped out the window, running for the Poor district.

There was a throng of dwarves in the Middle district, clambering for the marketplace, rumors flying fast between them.  Thorin slowed beside them, catching snippets of conversation.

“It was the Assassin!  He killed him!”

“We can’t know that for sure.  There were three others there.”

“I’ve seen his work.  It was him.”

“What will the Iron Hills say?”

“You don’t think they’d start a war, would they?”

“Over the death of Prince Dain?”

Ice flooded Thorin’s chest and he was suddenly drowning.  Dain, his dear cousin, was dead.  Killed by an assassin.  How many were there?  Was Thorin in danger coming out to the public?  If there were assassins in the city, surely his father would have warned him of the dangers.

Quickening his pace, Thorin bustled through the secret entrance to the Poor district.  He had to find Bofur.  Bofur would know.  Bofur always knew.  Thorin had never met a dwarf with a better ear for gossip than Bofur, and that included the ladies of the court.  He turned the corner and ran right into Bofur himself.

“Oh, Thorin!” Bofur jumped back, wringing his hat between his hands.  “Didn’t see you there.  Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, you understand.”

He pushed past Thorin, eyes downcast, but Thorin caught his arm, pulling him close.

“I need to speak with you,” Thorin said, desperately trying to catch Bofur’s eye.

“Like I said, bit of a rush, yeah?” Bofur tried to pull his arm free, but Thorin tightened his grip.  Bofur froze and turned to Thorin, eyes hard.  “Let me go, Thorin.”

“You don’t understand, we really need to talk,” Thorin dragged a reluctant Bofur to an empty house.

“You rich dwarves won’t take no for an answer,” Bofur grumbled, fingers still twitching on his hat.

“What’s gotten into you?” Thorin asked, pushing Bofur away and shutting the door.  “You don’t want to see me?  When has that ever happened?”

“Right, because you’re the great Thorin, son of Thrain,” Bofur’s tone was scathing but his eyes were glassy and his voice thick.  “I ought to be honored to have gotten your attention.”

“Honestly, Bofur,” Thorin reached forward, touching Bofur’s shoulder gently.  “What’s going on?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Bofur pulled away, leaving Thorin cold.

Thorin groaned.  Just because he was Prince didn’t mean that Thorin knew everything.  Thrain seemed pretty set on keeping Thorin as much in the dark as possible.  Without time to think, he let the questions pour out of his mouth.

“What happened in the marketplace?  What happened to Dain?  What is happening in this mountain that everyone seems keen on not telling me?  Who is the assassin?  Are there more?  Am I in danger?  Is my family in danger?”

“He got him,” Bofur’s eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards into the wall.  “But it’s too soon.  Dain wasn’t supposed to die for a week, though I guess he does get restless, and there were _my_ boys on the gallows.”

“What are you talking about?” Thorin demanded, fully tired of being left out of the loop.  It seemed that everyone had something to hide from him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Bofur shrugged, turning away.

Thorin’s face heated up.  This must be what Dis felt whenever he threw those words at her, sharp like a sword.  The feeling of being insignificant, thrown aside like garbage.  To feel as though he was too weak and stupid to understand.  And to think he had been throwing those feelings at his sister without knowing.

“Then make me understand,” Thorin turned Bofur back so they were face to face.  “Tell me what is happening, help me understand.  Don’t you dare cut me out like this.”

“I can’t tell you,” Bofur said and his eyes were shining bright now.  “I can’t be with you anymore.  Things are… complicated.  You have to go back, Thorin.  It’s safer that way.”

“I can’t!” Thorin lifted his hands to cradle Bofur’s face.  “How can I forget you?”  Thorin leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow.  “How can I forget this?”

“You must!” Bofur’s voice was pleading, tears spilling down his cheeks.  “I’m trying to keep you safe!  Now go away and get out of here!”

Thorin gasped as Bofur pushed him out to the street.  He backed away, unsure of what was happening or where his feet might be taking him.  Bofur slammed the door shut and Thorin left, his chest hollow and aching.

* * *

“Are you sure this is wise?”

“We can’t just take him in like this.”

“What if he kills us all?”

“How can we trust him?”

“Dori trusts him,” Nori’s voice cut through the den like a whip.  “And we all know that Dori doesn’t trust just anyone.”

“But he’s a Templar!”

“He’s one of them!”

“He worked with Thrain!”

Dori strode up to the platform, electricity crackling around him.  The Assassins went silent as Dori stood beside Nori, hands on his hips, doing a very impressive rendering of a disappointed mother.

“Thanks to him, Niiref is an Assassin.  Thanks to him, we knew of Thrain’s plot.  Thanks to him, my mercenaries still breathe.  Thanks to him, we have been a secret to the Templars.  I am _ashamed_ that you would question his honor and his integrity.”

A mumbled chorus of apologies filtered up.  Dori, pleased with himself, took a step back and Nori took a step forward, holding his arm out as a new dwarf stepped forward.

“We welcome into the Assassin Order, Balin son of Fundin.”


	14. Collision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time guys. I've had two chapters written but haven't had time to revisit it but I've had a revival in this so here's hoping I can finish it eventually.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me :)

Dwalin was a wreck.  He was lost and confused and completely unsure of everything he had lived for and defended.  For now, not only was Prince Dain dead, under his careful watch, but Balin was missing.  He had tried to brush it off, thinking that Balin had left for the Iron Hills the instant that Dain was found dead (murdered) but Dwalin knew better.

Deep in his heart, he knew that Balin had left the Order.  It was the only explanation for it.  The cryptic words, the secret meetings with Dori, the constant sad looks and tired eyes, the reason the Assassins were always one step ahead of them.  Dwalin’s heart ached in a way he’d forgotten it could.  It yearned for understanding, for companionship, for his brother.

Though they hadn’t been brothers recently.  Their positions in the Templar Order kept them far apart for decades, each doing his part to keep the Assassins at bay.  They didn’t grow up the way Fili and Kili had.  They spent more years apart than together.

So why did this time hurt so much?

Because Balin wasn’t just leaving Dwalin behind, he was leaving the Order, their way of life, the way they were raised.  Dwalin’s entire life was being turned upside-down before his very eyes and he didn’t know where he was supposed to go.

He couldn’t exactly just leave the Templar Order.  Dwalin would be as good as dead if he did such a thing.  Unless-

Dwalin shook his head.  He couldn’t do that.  He could never do that.  Joining the Assassins would certainly give him the protection he would need if he left the Templars, but that would admit that Nori had been right the entire time.

The Assassin had been on Dwalin’s mind more than usual as of late.  Dwalin longed to hunt him down, to make him pay for killing Dain, but there was an order to this.  The mercenaries had been taken down, and now it was time to handle the courtesans.  Fili and Kili couldn’t know about it.  They were fond of a woman there.

“First my brother, now my sister.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were after _me_.”

Dwalin barely contained a groan in his throat.  He turned to his window and there sat Nori, cocksure and arrogant, one leg swung over the side and smirk on his lips.  His robes were light brown today, better to blend among the commoners.

“Why the hell do you insist on visiting me?” Dwalin pushed away from the desk and stalked over to Nori.  “If this is some game of yours, I swear you’ll hang from mountainside.”

“No games,” Nori said, not moving an inch, even when Dwalin was right next to him, close enough to push.  “If you must know, I’m here for _you_.”

Dwalin paused and looked down at the Assassin.  Nori’s hood was down, his hair falling in a loose braid over his shoulder.  His eyes were locked in on Dwalin’s, face set.  This wasn’t the confident Assassin that plagued the Templars.  This was something else.

“Why are you here for me?” Dwalin asked, surprised at how soft his voice was.

“I’m going to help you help yourself,” Nori stood up.  Standing on the windowsill, he was taller than Dwalin.

How could he resist such a temptation?  Dwalin reached for Nori’s hips without thinking, only encouraged by Nori’s own hands snaking around Dwalin’s neck.  Dwalin glanced up, catching Nori’s hooded eyes and soft smile.

A soft smile that was pressed up, open and wet, against Dwalin’s mouth.  Unlike their past kisses, this was slow and languid, as though Nori had all the time in the world to explore.  Dwalin found he had no arguments with that.

Too soon, Nori pulled away.  Now it was Dwalin’s eyes that were hooded as he looked up at the Assassin that ruined everything.

“Follow me,” Nori whispered.

Before Dwalin could protest, Nori ran past him and out the door.  Just like old times, Dwalin gave chase.  In another time, he would have been concerned about how well Nori knew the inside of the royal quarters.  This time, however, Dwalin only cared that he caught the Assassin.  Nori led him up the mountain, further than Dwalin had gone before.

They ran through a dark tunnel, only a glimmer of light at the end.  Gasping for breath, Dwalin burst into the light.  They were outside the mountain.  From this height, they could see Dale in the distance, sun setting in the west.  It was a beautiful sight with Nori sitting on the cliff edge, motioning for Dwalin to sit by him.

He didn’t.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“This is a conversation to have in comfort,” Nori shrugged.  “Come, sit.”

Dwalin didn’t budge.  Nori sighed and stood up.  He walked up to Dwalin, pushing him down onto the ground.

“I’m serious,” Nori said, hands on Dwalin’s shoulders, staring down at him.  “Let me tell you about who I serve.”

Reluctantly, Dwalin nodded.  If this is what Nori wanted then Nori was going to get it.  Nothing had ever stopped Nori before and certainly nothing was going to stop him now.  Nori gave a brief nod, a ghost of a smile, and began to speak.

“Long, long, long ago, the Assassins and Templars were formed.  It’s still unsure if they were formed against each other in a war, or if they were allies who disagreed and began fighting.  Regardless, the battle between our Orders has lasted for ages.

“Your Order believes in peace by oppression.  You strive to destroy any originality or self-thought.  If the people have free will and free thinking, your Order believes that there will be chaos and ruin.  You care more for preserving bodies and buildings than souls.”

Dwalin felt fury boil beneath his skin.  How dare Nori bring him up here and insult his livelihood!  It didn’t matter that everything Nori said was true, for it was said in such a condescending tone that Dwalin couldn’t help but be offended.

“You serve a noble cause, Dwalin,” Nori said, gentle hand gliding over his shoulders.  “It is your methods that are less than honorable.”

“And I suppose that yours are so much better?” Dwalin spat.  “Killing in the dark, hiding from your crimes.  Hardly better than what I do.”

“Not those methods, you fool,” Nori rolled his eyes.  “Your cause is safety.  Your method is oppression.”

“Then, please, tell me what your methods are.”

“Freedom,” Nori said simply.  “These dwarves can take care of themselves.  More than that, they thrive under freedom.  They are strong and powerful.  I have seen them band together and work harder than ever before when they are free to do so.  There is no chaos, there is no anarchy.  There is prosperity and peace.”

“How can you know that?” Dwalin countered.  “If we take away all the guards, then there will be chaos.”

“I didn’t say that,” Nori said.  “Freedom can still be freedom with guards in place.”

“You live a hypocritical life,” Dwalin stood up, walking back into the mountain.  “At least I know what I stand for.”

“You serve oppressive bastards who would sooner see us all destroyed and in prison than let us flourish in the mountain!” Nori shouted as Dwalin walked away.  “You’ll see soon enough, Dwalin son of Fundin!  Your king is going to kill us all!”

* * *

Bofur glanced up as Nori stormed into the Den.  The Assassin threw himself onto the floor, arm dramatically thrown over his face.

“Didn’t go so well then?” Bofur guessed, setting his sewing aside.

“I misjudged Dwalin’s loyalty.”

“He’s not budging then,” Bofur sighed.  “It always was a longshot.”

“Not that long of a shot,” Balin said, stepping out of his impromptu office.  “Dwalin is loyal to a fault.  We only need to change his loyalty.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Bring Thorin into the Order.”

Bofur’s stomach flopped and he twisted his hat in his hands.  Thorin.

“The King already knows of Thorin’s relationship with Bofur,” Balin said.  “We need to press that advantage and bring him to our side.  Bofur?”

Balin and Nori were looking at him expectantly.  Bofur hadn’t told them.  He hadn’t told anyone.  If he spoke the words, turned thought into action, then it would be real.  The pain he saw flash in Thorin’s eyes.  The pain he caused.  There would be no going back.

“I let him go.”

To Bofur’s credit, he didn’t break down in tears nor did his voice crack.  He did, however, stand up and walk out of the Assassin’s Den.

The streets were a familiar sight to him.  Often, Bofur would simply walk through the marketplace, stealing the occasional money purse to help feed Bombur’s clients, customers, whatever Bofur was supposed to call the starving of Erebor.  This time, however, Bofur kept his head down, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Thorin was on his mind.

It wasn’t like Bofur had much of a choice.  When Balin came rushing into the Den, claiming that Thrain knew, Bofur didn’t even think.  Thorin’s safety was his primary concern.  Thorin’s safety would always be his top priority.

Pushing him away, saying those awful things had hurt Bofur.  Seeing the betrayal in Thorin’s eyes had killed him.  At least Thorin was safe.  That was all that mattered.

So distracted were his thoughts that Bofur didn’t notice he was being followed until it was too late.  A knife against his back and a voice in his ear were his only warnings.

“Tell me what you did to my brother, or I swear I’ll gut you like the worm you are and hide your body in a place so remote that not even the rats will feast on your flesh.”

There was only one dwarf in all of Erebor with a tongue that sharp.  Bofur smiled despite himself.  He knew exactly who was behind him.

“Hello to you as well, Lady Dis.”

“No time for formalities,” Dis said, the knife digging into Bofur’s back.  “I was being serious.  If you’ll be so kind as to follow my boys, we’re going to have a little chat.”

Now that Bofur was looking, he saw Fili and Kili, bouncing from stall to stall in their typical fashion, which was haphazardly and random.  Though perhaps not as random as it appeared.  They scanned the crowd, pausing for a sliver of a second on their mother, before bounding off.  Dutifully, Bofur followed.

“I’m surprised at you,” Bofur said.  “Normally you avoid our Order like the plague.”

“You broke my brother’s heart,” Dis said, tone clipped.

“To protect him!”

Dis groaned and pushed him through an open door.  Bofur stumbled and fell.  It was one of those apartments the Middle district was so fond of.  They stood in a large room, small kitchen and table to one side with a bedroom down a short hallway.  The apartments were stacked on top of each other, proving an efficient way to house many people in a small space.

Fili and Kili were already in place by the door, arms folded over their chests.  Not quite the imposing figure that Thorin cut, but impressive nonetheless.  Dis, who stood over Bofur’s prone body, hadn’t changed since Bofur last saw her, some hundred years past.  Her dark hair hung in elegant curls around her face, accentuating her cheekbones.  Her face was more lined than last they met and her eyes more cold.

“Without your influence, the Templars will take complete control over Thorin.  He will not be the impartial king you so desire nor with he be the puppet Thrain wishes him to be.  Without you, Thorin will be the cruelest tyrant to ever rule this halls.”

“He can hardly associate with an assassin, even one such as myself,” Bofur countered, pushing himself up to his feet.  “The Templars do not like disobedience.”

“No,” Dis sighed, eyes growing distant.  “They don’t.”

Of all the wonderful dwarves that Bofur had met in his life, it was Lady Dis that held his admiration most.  She had been through more pain and suffering than Bofur could imagine.  First losing her husband to battle, then her brother.

“Are you still blaming yourself for his death?”

“Nori swore to me that Frerin would be safe,” Dis lashed out.  “He promised me that the Templars wouldn’t catch him.  I trusted him.”

“We all trusted him,” Bofur said.  “But he was new.  He can’t be expected to make the right decisions all the time.”

Frerin’s death was a black mark on both Orders.  His defection from Templar to Assassin had started a secret war so fierce that it nearly tore the mountain apart.  Bofur was only a pickpocket then, barely in the Order, but his cousin had been a mercenary.  The war left Bifur was a split skull, axe still in place.

The apartment was quiet, Fili and Kili dropping their childish act and soaking every word said.  Wise beyond their years, both boys knew of the Templars and Assassins since they were waist high.

“When Thorin told me about you, I sent him to find you,” Dis said slowly.  “I thought if I could save him from this Order, if I could send him to the Assassins, that it would somehow fix the mistake I made with Frerin.  As though I was righting a wrong.”  She looked up at Bofur and, for a second, he could see the pain she carried, the weight of her dead brother.  The moment passed, and her eyes were diamonds again.  “And then he comes home a weeping wreck because you sent him away.”

“Would you rather he end up like Frerin?”

Dis straightened up.  She swallowed.  Her gaze was sure and her voice didn’t waver.

“I would rather see Thorin dead than brainwashed like the rest of that Templar scum.”


End file.
